


Black Magic Woman

by Ghost_Nappa



Series: Denerim Curb Stomp [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Other, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 46,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Nappa/pseuds/Ghost_Nappa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate wasn't kind to Leandra and Malcolm letting them lose the one thing that held them together. Now after being raised by another family and seperated by the blight, Hawke must find a reason to rise through the ranks of Kirkwall to survive. If not then she can easily be a pawn to live longer.<br/>(Sequel to And Baby Four)<br/>On hiatus due to stress and classes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Sister

**Author's Note:**

> We never did get into Hawke's story of how she fared well in Kirkwall....last we saw of her was a mercenary band preparing the walk back to Kirkwall. Best we go into her story and the changes that follow.

The air wasn't usually so rank inside the Chantry that the burning incense was needed to mask the foul odor. It smelled and felt like death in the house of the Maker today, making everyone suspicious for their lives. The thought of going back to being proud nobles, that they were still alive, by celebrating a good fuck with their loved ones would make anyone feel alive at the moment. Yet, no matter how one would spin it, funerals brought out the mortality in everyone no matter their status. Then again, Gamlen was _sure_ he felt that every day. Mourning his own niece's passing was a good break from the misery of just being him. Gamlen thought this sordid attendance was a good change in his routine, as horrible as that sounded. But he would have lied if he said he wasn't a selfish man.

Looking toward the front he gazed on at Leandra: stone-faced, grim, and not shedding a tear as her Grace gave the sermon. She looked the role for a real bitch of an ice queen from Gamlen's personal experience, but she was by no means one herself. She just looked emotionally drained and numb knowing her darling girl was gone. Carver sat next to her, sullen and red eyed, probably from crying that morning as he held his mother's hand for solace. What was even more odd was Guillaume, sitting next to them to show support. Everyone knew of the divorce, since it was finalized last month, but this tragedy was going to be the talk of the town. Oh, the price of notoriety can be heard clearly in the hushed whispers of such gossipy hens.

"Can you believe it? Poor dear wasn't even past her 18th Name day."

"I heard she was murdered and found in an alley. Taken advantage of and left like Darktown trash." The woman clicked her tongue as if the imagery was offensive.

"Well the little tart had it coming and I wouldn't be surprised if the men paid her before it got out of control." The tone in this woman's voice could curdle a Bronto out of death.

"What? That's just awful, Gertrude. I mean, just because she was seeing all those suitors of hers, and then some, doesn't mean she was some local tart working at The Rose."

"I meant the little slut was doing everyone's son after she broke my poor sweet Jory's heart. I should know since I consoled him after spying on her with Girard's boy."

"Well your son _is_ a bit of a softie when it comes to girls."

" _Maybe if he didn't have such a meandering mother he could learn to grow a set and keep a woman to his side."_

The three women turned to location of the new speaker who was standing directly behind them. Not seeing anyone there, they were a bit confused.  
"Ladies I'm down here, but don't stray too far down now."

Varric was looking up with an amused look on his face, eyeing the ladies with untold payment for their banter. Gamlen could only chuckle at the three since they were more or less the _nicer_ gossipers milling about today, but it wouldn't save them from a silver tongue lashing from the dwarf.

"Now ladies, it would be most unbecoming to talk of such insanely intriguing stories, and at a funeral no less, unless you were to give up a story about yourselves?"

Gertrude only huffed fanning herself with a grim look. "I have no idea what you are implying Dwarf."

"It's Varric, milady."

"Whatever, we were merely discussing how _tragic_ Bethany's death will have on the community for losing such a beautiful girl." Pulling the fan closer to her mouth she mumbled a bit. "Since she was such a well-hidden little whore among us."

Varric slit his eyes with a darken mood hidden behind his friendly smile that only got bigger just as the sermon was concluded.

"Well it should take one to know one when you're trying to see if they're trying to steal your wallet.

Then again, I always confused that with vicious squirrels fighting over a measly nut."

The look on Gertrude's face was enough to make Varric smile, knowing he was not struck for being a heathen. Gamlen decided it was best to walk over and intervene before things became ugly.

"Varric there you are! Blast it man, we were supposed to meet up with Leandra for the Mourning party."

Varric only smiled at him as the gossipy hens scurried off without proper goodbyes. He walked forward to Leandra, followed by Gamlen, towards the exit.

"They're not worth it." Gamlen muttered under a smile.

Varric snorted, running his hand through his hair. "Worth it to besmirch Sunshine's name for four minutes of gossip, or worth it to humiliate them with a rousing story of Jory's latest escapades over at the Blue Lagoon?"

"Funny how I'm being told this, but they weren't."

"That's because, my dear man, I would've went into the most ludicrous details of a story that included oils, wine, running chickens and a rash caused by a wallop mallet."

Gamlen could only shake his head, hearing the name of the brothel where anything goes. It was not as good as the Blooming Rose, but he did not want to hear about Athenril's business after what happened last month concerning a certain refugee. "Yes, the boy was rather curious as a cat."

"I would have gone with a snake since he was evil-looking and just as scaly as one. Not to mention the whole unhinging of the jaw and swallowing-big-things aspect." Gamlen looked down at the Dwarf with an unamused look on his face.

"What? I'm just saying it makes a better story if you focus on that. Especially if I'm not the one in charge of the pen."

"Right. You can tell me later. I plan to drink as much free wine as I can before I can steal a bottle or two."

" I can't fathom how you can see the appeal of those dingy things when the Hanged Man has everything a man needs."

"Good then. That just means I get _your_ drinks as well."

The two walked up to Leandra, who was having a hushed argument with Guillaume near the chantry board. Whatever the conversation was about, Carver stood in front of his mother with fists trembling in rage.

"If you _ever_ call my mother or my sister that again, I will forget we ever shared the same blood, old man!" Carver seethed standing nose to nose with Guillaume.

"Is that any way to talk back to your father, you worthless whelp?! Give respect where its due, boy, or else you'll find more than just some missing teeth." Leandra coughed, gaining their attention as she closed her eyes.

"Please, we can fight another time- just, please not today."

Carver straightened himself out by smoothing out his outer coat before looking at his father with cold contempt. Guillaume, not feeling threatened at all, puffed out his chest to walk back to his new manor, where he was holding his own private wake. Carver couldn't stand the man after the divorce for humiliating his mother, and today was no exception. Guillaume had the gall to degrade his daughter, who just met a gruesome death.

Now feeling the hand smooth out his cheek, Carver looked down to see his mother smiling sadly.

"My baby boy, all grown up into a man and saving me from dragons."

Carver smiled inwardly at that thought but put up the front of being mad.

"It's okay darling. I know you're hurting, but it is not wise to lash out at everyone you meet. Come now, you go with the others in my place for the wake and I'll head home to rest."

"Mother, I shouldn't leave you by yourself in this state. Maybe if you were to talk with uncle Gamlen about your day…?

"No, it's alright; I have double security and changed the locks to the cellars. Also, the city guard is on the case. Orana and Alden will give me company while I make dinner. So be a good boy and don't give your Uncle too much trouble, alright?"

"I will." He planted a gentle kiss on his mother's cheek before heading towards the Lowtown stairs where Varric and Gamlen were waiting.

Leandra gazed at them with a warm smile as Carver greeted Varric, yet as soon as their backs turned she looked straight at Gamlen with an emotionless expression. Gamlen, for one, was good at reading his sister, but lately it was getting harder to separate the kind woman from the 'leader' persona that Leandra presented lately.

Shaking off the feeling, he rushed down the stairs, catching up to hear the end of Varric's punch line.

"And the next thing he screams is 'she's driving me nuts!"

Carver laughed up a storm at the tasteless joke, ignoring his uncle's mood. Wiping a tear away from his eye, he jumped the bottom two steps without breaking his neck.

"Well as much as I'm not the best in stories, unlike you my stout friend, I _do_ have a hot piece of information that cheered me up and might even help you boys out."

"What's this? Junior, with info I haven't heard before?" Varric put his hands up to his face in mock surprise, ignoring the chosen sign language shown to him. "Well, _do_ go on. I could use some fresh info."

"Yeah well, you know that new fighter up in the brawls sponsored over at the Blue Lagoon?"

"The big dark guy with the perfect set of tits, who scares everyone; yet has the refugees fawning over him like Dwarves to backstabbing? What's he called...the Predator or something?"

"Close enough on the name, but _she_ is a hell ringer from Fereldan, hence all the love from the refugees and their stringy coin." Carver slowed his pace as they entered the low town market. "I also heard she's going to fight for the title from the Coterie's ringer and something big is going to be planned should either one win."

"Really now, is that a fact?" Varric rubbed his chin as the little wheels spun in his head. "Normally Junior, when fights go anything can happen from now and tomorrow that can guarantee a screw-up. A month is like a god-send if these were legal sanctions. Who told you this lovely lie?"

"One of Athenril's boys who train with the mystery woman said it to me over a couple of pints after my last winnings. He said, 'our lucky fighter, that she is, has a lot to give back to her supporters after the special bout. I mean, granted the way that she fights is just full on...beautiful. It's like watching a tiger fight a Wyvern. Both are deadly and it's pretty much a one-sided fight, but the tiger manages to win, making sure the wyvern dies with it.'"

"Whoa now Junior, you're coming off with a case of Hero worship if the woman is _that_ good, or -" A hard slap on the back threw Carver's balance off quickly. "Could it be love at first broken teeth?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Dwarf? I am sure you would find it more fun getting the answer out of me drunker than a skunk?"

" I'm sure more than a barrel will get it out of you after I'M done."

"Well, guess what? I'm fueled by rage and melancholy, so better bring out three kegs before I tell you."

Gamlen kept quiet throughout the chatter as he listened in and started panicking. He knew they were talking about that Hawke girl in Athenril's service and was somewhat glad she was doing alright, even if it meant losing some teeth. However, his gut instinct was going off knowing that a prizefight with an afterparty taking place at the Blue Lagoon of all places never meant anything good.

He didn't want to think on the matter anymore. The girl was out of his hands and he didn't want to find out how she knew Malcolm, or about anything linking Hawke to him .He just hoped Leandra never found out.

Maker help him, if she might.

*****************************************

The moon was full and round outside, shining through the hole in the roof right into Gamlen's face. He swore things were always shitty just before he could catch a break and the pounding headache from all the drinking earlier wasn't helping him. He moved his head to the side, getting the light out of his closed eyes but felt a strange tugging sensation. Choosing to sleep on his side he shifted only to find himself sitting upright. Confusion set in Gamlen's head as he swore he was lying down in his bed.

Opening his eyes he found himself strapped to a chair in his living room and surrounded by hooded men. Armored hooded men accompanied by a well-dressed shadowed figure. Gamlen could only hope that. His hair was standing up, his stomach was churning from fear and ale and he knew tonight was whatever bullshit coming back to bite him in the ass. He just hoped it did not leave bloodstains soaking into the floor.

"You know Gamlen, I'm well-aware that we haven't been friendly in the last couple months ever since that incident with Guillaume, but you didn't need to avoid me."

Fuck. Andraste's flying brassier. He didn't think this would happen to him so soon. He cringed, feeling her hands rub out the tension in his shoulders.

"I mean, the last month was hard on all of us, what with my darling Bethany being taken away...in such a cruel manner." Gamlen winced as the rubs were becoming harder by the second. "Thankfully, Meeran was there to help me mourn properly during the process. But you know what I find funny? Recently he picked up some interesting gossip that a _certain_ person was in the gallows a couple weeks back. Visiting a _certain_ refugee with a job offer because she happened to know a man we both know so well…but I will get to the point seeing as your about to piss yourself."

Walking around to Gamlen's left side, Leandra nodded her head to one of the armored figures, who handed her a small ball pin hammer. The sweat poured off Gamlen's forehead, making him wish he was having a fevered alcohol dream in the fade that would soon be broken up by a parade of rabbits.

"I'll cut straight to the point then...is Malcolm dead?" She matched her icy eyes in tone.

"Yes. She told me and presented your locket. I gave them some money for it, seeing how it was priceless to you, and went along my merry way for the good deal!"

Gamlen felt the first blow on his left hand as Leandra hit, avoiding the joints.

"If I wanted an outright lie, I would have paid Varric or asked Meeran on a bad day. I came here to hear from your mouth. Although the current atmosphere isn't helpful, what with timing being an issue with the funeral." Leandra tested the weight of the hammer blocking out Gamlen's obscenities under his breath.

"Who gave you _his_ locket?"

"I swear, it was some random woman he met while fleeing from the Blight who nursed him on the ship from a dark spawn wound!" Gamlen was tearing up trying to reach out for sympathy at the woman who wasn't his sister. "He was really sick and dying because they couldn't help him. They had to toss him overboard so the others couldn't catch the blight, but not before some woman promised to bring his keepsakes to you. She stayed in the gallows with the other refugees until she contacted me, bringing the locket."

Leandra turned her back to him, eying the cracks in the roof. "He died over the seas then?"

"Yes, he did...look, I'm sorry for whatever closure you're looking for, but he's _dead_ Leandra! He was just lucky someone was insanely concerned enough to hunt me down and let you have his last memento!"

The hammer fell again on his ring finger, not breaking the bone but fracturing it for a slow rate heal. Gamlen looked up with contained red fury at Leandra, who exhibited cool indifference.

"Thing is, I believe you. But you left out a _very_ important detail in that story."

Gamlen did not answer only to contain his curses.

"You see Gamlen, that locket of mine actually looks like a pendant with our family crest atop it, and the only way you would have to know about the inside contents was if you opened it. So, how did you manage to open it, Gamlen dear?"

"Look I... I..." It was what he feared most would happen and Leandra wasn't backing down.

"You couldn't open it, could you? That's something only three certain people can do without getting shocked." Gamlen could feel the sweat gathering forth on his forehead as the room was beginning to sway. "One of the three is dead, leaving me and our mystery woman...but we can cut the bullshit. How much did Athenril pay you?"

"I have no idea.-"

"How _much_ did she pay you to sell out my daughter?"

"She didn't pay me shit, she just threat-fuck!" The hammer came down on his wrist breaking the bone at an odd angle. "She threatened to kill me and kill the girl if I told you! I swear I didn't think it through, but it was the only way I found answers about Mara! I'm not sorry for even doing it!"

Leandra stood back, taking in a deep breath before exhaling to calm her muscles into a relaxed pose. She looked at Gamlen, who was breathing heavily from the pain and mostly likely now hated her with renewed passion.

"'Sorry isn't good enough when you put family into indentured servitude for personal reasons...however, I am willing to let this go with a warning since you told me the truth. I'll have a doctor come see you in the morning."

Before Gamlen could blink, Leandra twirled the hammer around hitting him with the handle, knocking him out. Once slouched over, the armored men began unbuckling him from the chair and tending to his wounds. Leandra walked outside his hovel, down the small flight of stairs, and back to her estate. Rounding the corner, she met with Meeran, whose arms were crossed, with a bored look on his face.

"So, was he telling the truth like my sources told me?"

"Yes, but we have more pressing matters to attend to." Leandra walked ahead, followed closely by Meeran.

"Something that requires you to put our current search on hold for something more urgent." His tones were hushed for any usual spies.

"Something that pertains to both, seeing as they are connected to another." Leandra gestured.

"Leandra, I haven't seen you this close to being rattled, so I take it we're going to strike two targets with one stone, concerning the girl?"

"No, we only have a month's time to wrap up all current loose ends. Besides," She brushed her hair back as a wicked smile slowly crept into her face. "I plan to throw a wasp's nest into a hornet's nest."

"Usually woman, it's the latter being thrown at with a firebomb. I don't suppose you're crazy enough to plan such thing, unless you got time on your hands?" Meeran scratched his head. His gut told him something big was about to happen.

Leandra tittered as she neared the stairwell leading at the Chantry. "You can say it's going to take a year in the making."


	2. Chapter 2

The fade seemed less playful as leaves swirled about on the ground. The garden was unkempt from what looked like years of decay, when really it was a day. Fade birds twittered and screeched as the sun slowly dimmed. A week passed, turning the garden into a marsh that avoided life instead of one teeming with another subset of it. It looked like the fabled Black marsh or Kocari Wilds lurking with unknown danger to outside visitors.

Durga perhaps viewed herself more as a trespasser on these lands. These frail markings on the fade were disappearing and with Bethany's consequent death, no longer remained without her living mana. Instead, it was claimed back by the Fade like nature on ruined cities, back to a natural state of ever-changing. Only with Durga's current presence was there something to remember the girl who taught her some semblance of magic. Looking over the landscape, Durga sat up, viewing with somber memories the idea that such a sweet woman had taken in her prime. She in some way had gained a sister and lost her all the same. Moving about from one spot to the next, demons began prowling in hopes of marking new territory, making it time to wake up.

Durga stretched out her aching muscles, relishing in the feeling of every crack, twitch, and burn passing along her joints and muscles. Sweeping her legs off the side of the bed earned a whine from behind as Lady pressed her nose into the small of Durga's back.  
For a wolf passing as an overbearing Mabari, she was very motherly in Durga's presence, yet cold and indifferent to others. Aveline being the exception, of course. Those two got along well like some sort of secret strong female pack.

Lady sniffed at Durga as a morning ritual before landing on the floor for a good stretch. The bed was barely big enough for both, yet Lady always slept next to her as a security blanket. Even if her apartment was safe, it was not safe from the others working under Athenril, something Durga was paranoid about ever since her employment. She finished her stretches, groaning at the smell outside, wondering if the heat would die down just so the garbage would smell less.

"At least we're not living in Darktown, girl. Imagine the smell along with all the other dangers waiting about for us." Durga pulled on her clothes, wondering if Lady could fully understand her.  
Lady replied in the simple manner of huffing her nose and bearing her teeth in some sort of mock anger.

"Hmmm. Well that about answers my former question about any Mabari lineage in you." A small gruff was replied as Lady sat up looking pleased. "Yes, yes. You have more pedigree on you than I have in magic. Still, I could not ask for much better company during these dire times. Care for a visit with my other favorite leading lady?"

Lady stood on all fours walking to the door as Durga finished dressing, before venturing down the stairs. The lobby was empty, aside from the usual workers not on shift milling about for breakfast. Grabbing some bread off the counter - Lady growling at Marco as Durga waved to her trainers, Briley and Bato - they ventured outside. The weather seemed to be in their favor since it was cooler outside, giving Durga much relief as she climbed toward Hightown with Lady in tow. The crisp air was nicer than the subtle change of the social environment, nobles and merchants alike still gawked and stared at another Lowtown resident venturing out to sully their view. If she was on the docks the sailors would bother her by asking 'where's she from?' due to her dark skin or other assumptions that included alley work.

At least here in Hightown, they only hated her because she was not rich or a noble.

Walking around the corner led her to the food court filled with the usual riff-raff eating breakfast, not because they could not have an extravagant meal in their mansions, but mostly for the early morning gossips. The news over the young Amell's death was a hot subject, but Durge paid the gossipers no mind, going on about her lifestyle. The smells of their various coffees filled the air making a parade of succulent meals. Sizzling eggs benedict cooked to perfection from the Nestled Rooster were being served to the usual crowd who prefered its Orleasian origins. However Durga thought all that fancy preparation was wasted on a meal that shouldn't have the air of a pretentious social outing.

She turned to Lady with a smirk. "It's a good thing one particular person eats like a sane woman with us, even if she could bench press an ogre."

Suddenly, red hair and strained exasperation all wrapped into a neat armor appeared.

"You'd think with something as tragic as this, they'd talk about it in their parlors over dinner, not at first light." Aveline thankfully wasn't within earshot of that comment.

"Morning to you too, Aveline. I take it you ordered already?" Durge nodded towards a line of people leading to a large window of cooks making breakfast.

"Yes I have…Hawke." Durga still could not get used to that name, but it was better coming from Aveline who shifted her sword around. "It's going to be a little bit of a wait since they just baked the bread and started on the sausages. Well, that and being part of the guard can only make them work faster."

"At least the cook acknowledges you this time. Last time I spoke to him he purposely gave away our orders to the people behind us. I almost felt sorry that Lady made him respect me."

The wafting smell of eggs and meat filled the air as customers started lining up to the window. Aveline and Durga sat on some benches, in full view from the café kitchen as Lady slept between them. Aveline has been a great ear for Durga, knowing that neither had a family to give them solace in their new home. So it became a daily ritual: to keep the other company with news, they bought breakfast when they could afford it. The chef brought out two wax-wrapped sandwiches on the counter, signaling Aveline they were ready and paid. Grabbing the sandwiches, they ventured towards a secluded corner on the stairwell to the keep. Aveline ate her meal chewing to make the flavor last, while Durga picked at hers, feeding bits of the meat to Lady.

"Did you know your next fight was attracting a lot of attention lately?" Aveline looked at Durga out the corner of her eye.

"This based on the fact that big money is being placed for either side, or are you worried I'm getting anxious over it?" Lady scarfs down half the sandwich earning a tut from Durga.

"Mostly the money portion for the bets, on _both_ sides, for the outcome has me worried. Hawke, do you know what your chances are should you win?"

"Currently last I checked its 5:1 since they're all racist bigots on Fereldans. Why?" She eyed Aveline with curiosity.

"Well, I checked some of my sources and they are saying its being risen to 20:1 on both sides."

Durga was glad that Lady ate her meal because she could swear she choked on empty air. "Andraste's tits, someone is bound to make a lot of money off this fight."

"Athenril being that 'someone', since she is half in charge of the publicity workings and holding the fight. But it isn't just the giant pot that has me worried." Aveline scooted over closer to Durga in hushed tones. "It seems she's planning a big surprise for certain betting parties involved. I couldn't get more but it all lies heavily on the fact should you win or lose the match."

"So you think it could be a forced retirement of sorts and she'll sell me to the highest bidder?"

Aveline scowled at the awful remark. "Hawke, you shouldn't joke about that. She's in some shady business that goes under the radar, but I fear she has some big backers who want their piece of the pie."

"Aveline, I'm not dumb. I know there are some things she's doesn't tell me, but it comes with the territory of her job. I mean, just because she's working in smuggling."

"It's that smuggling business that has me so worried. As someone who was trained to be a solid commander, there are certain things that come across a battlefield that I have to spot out to ensure my men are not in danger. You are my concern, as my only friend in this city, and I plan to make sure you are safe." Aveline rubbed her neck from a cramp. "It's a gut feeling that has bad news written all over it."

Durga looked at Aveline, noting the concern in her eyes. It reminded her of a certain someone who begged her mother to reconsider a meeting that went wrong. Suddenly, she felt somber at the reverie knowing it was best to do this now.

"Aveline, you are going above and beyond as a true friend, helping me. There's something I should tell you before you go any further." Reaching over to her hand, Durga quickly healed the cramp as she finally let someone else know about her.

They sat on the stairs, Aveline listening intently, as Lady laid her head in her lap. It would be a lot to take in, but Durga felt at ease unloading her burden retelling her home, her family, the death of her mother, the disaster wedding, the separation at Ostagar and the flight from Lothering. It felt good to get it off her chest.

"So, that's all there is to me." Durga sat hunched over her knees.

Aveline stayed quiet through the ordeal looking out into the crowd that doubled as shops were hauling their wares. Standing up she dusted off her hands before setting her gloves back on.  
"Frankly, Hawke, your secret is better safe with me. If anything, I could have written you off as a loon and spent a night in the brig. However, you and I are the only ones who look out for each other."

"Aveline. You big, old softy." Durga shot up gripping Aveline into a bear hug, ignoring the guard woman's hidden smile. "I'll see you tomorrow with the usual?"

"No need, we can choose something else since I'm sure the chef will spit in it next time. Take care now Hawke."

"You too, Avy." Aveline chuckled at the nickname before taking off for her shift.

This left Durga and Lady to rest abit before heading back to train for the day. With a spring in her step, nothing felt out of place to bring her down. Passing by a pillar, a nonchalant man was watching her with a vicious smile appearing on his face. Walking away from the two, he went the opposite way to Lowtown whistling a tune.

* * *

"Alright, so that leaves the Coterie taking care of security, with one of ours in charge and Marco prepping the Blue Lagoon for the festivities." Athenril looked around her table as her men nodded. "Play this right, boys, and we'll be swimming in gold to last a year for each of us."

They dispersed on command, going about their jobs setting up the event. They all had a month to make this fight look and feel good so that no one would tip off the guard. These unsanctioned fights were illegal in Kirkwall according to the Viscount, but a few major players wanted this to go down as an excuse to relax for once, something that had a certain elf just as antsy over the thought should this event go without a hitch in plans. A event this big would be used under the protection of the Coterie where nothing bad would happen to the 'merchandise' even should a major war break out.  
Athenril did not like it one way or the other, but she knew her gut was right about hiring that Hawke woman. Granted she could have her work off the debt working some jobs around Kirkwall, but there was not much in the girl's skills outside of being extra muscle and an easy profit that required stealth. Judging by the way she fought, Hawke had some easy footing in her step to dodge a blow. Moreover, all the hero worship from the regulars and refugees made a niggling idea pop into her head that made this party possible.  
She sat down at her desk feeling very happy for all this progress. Now it was just making sure everything ran smoothly until the big fight.

A knock on her office door was followed with a rough looking Elven man holding a letter. "Hey Boss, parcel for ya."

"Who was the runner?" Athenril did not get her job just opening random mail.

"Rigby. Seems he's got something tasty to share." He showed her the seal Rgiby used whenever he contacted her.

Grabbing the letter and peeling off the seal, Athenril read over the contents with a passive gaze. Rereading it again made a sinister smile creep onto her face as the contents of the message were like a personal wish come true. Setting the letter down, she pulled out some blank parchment and wrote on it hastily, yet eligible to anyone who can read it.

"Take this," She trusted it into the lackey's hand. "To Tomwise in Darktown. He will know what to do and wont ask questions. Then you are to head to the apartment and only show Marco, Briley and Bato. Afterwards, burn the letter and report back."

The man nodded his head before setting out to run on his orders. Athenril sat back in her chair, mulling over her head the content of the paper and the news on it. If anything, this made a contingency plan four years down the line all the more appetizing to happen in a month.


	3. Chapter 3

“One, two, tree, four, please tell me we’re done.” Sweat was pouring on the ground and the weather was not helping the situation.

“Twenty more reps then you can take a break. So less talk, more kicking.” Bato chuckled.

“Well riddle me this sir. Do you have to eat in front of me?” Durga could smell the mutton, that was placed five feet away, as she swung at Briley holding up the punching bag. Bato looked at an invisible spot on the floor, hiding a smirk.

This was the usual affairs in the building since Durga joined Athenril’s gang. The three going over a specific training regime for each fight used the top floor constantly. Nothing special or extravagant was planned seeing, as the basics were enough. Briley was not much in the looks department with his wiry frame, brown hair, and dull but the man could take a punch. Bato on the other hand was more a ginger with blue eyes, yet he was nasty with his punches. They fitted well with Durga keeping to the basics of a proper fighting stance. If you can call kicking out a knee; or punch out some teeth as ‘proper fighting.’ Overall, it was something all both elves had in learning in the Alienage. Durga knew better from experience herself, but she was just a lucky Shem working with Athenril. It felt odd at first, but she was ecstatic to be working with ‘her’ people again.

It felt like being home and the family she missed.

Briley sat the bag down shaking out his arms from holding and feeling the force of Durga’s kicks. He was grinning with exaggerated movements as Durga began stretching out her sore muscles.

“So, Briley, you think I’m good enough for a one hit kill for tomorrow night?” She lay out on the floor looking pleased and exhausted.

“Well Hawke if you work on your feints and follow ups more it would have been over for any other fighter. But since this is the champ we are talking about you can go all out during the third or fourth round.” He sat down next to Bato, who handed him a bowl while making one for Durga.

“I dunno Briley; I mean the champ is known to fight dirty out when big money is involved. I say you should keep to your defense and slowly wear him down through fatigue. You do have an amazing well of stamina.” Durga nodded at his points going over the plan in her head.

“Still I have to make sure I don’t over exert myself since rumors are all about the party afterwards.” Durga took a spoonful of her meal missing the obvious eye contact between her trainers. 

“What rumors and what party? Cause if Athenril is holding one I could use a party involving a pay raise.” Briley grinned tearing into his bowl.

“Oh it’s nothing, just heard it from the usual idiots walking by the Hangman. Talking about it as if it were not a secret. If anything I would bet it’s just Athenril showing off how much money she made off the fights, going over my contract or showing me off for another extravagant event.” Durga’s eyes lit up with mirth at the ideas playing off Athenril’s greed.

Bato grimaced at her choice of words trying to hide the obvious pain in his eyes. He pushed his bowl away moving suddenly to their first aide box going over the contents finding something important. This earned a curious look from Durga as she ate her meal with worry. Briley read the change in atmosphere decided to ease Durga’s discomfort. Standing up He walked over to her seat with a stern look.

“Hawke if those rumors you heard going around are true, then we have to prepare earlier than expected for the fight. Meaning you should cut training for today and get yourself prepared.” This earned a raised eyebrow in silent question towards Briley wanting to know more behind his words. “What I’m going to assume is Athenril might plan to show you off like a prize bull here and in the Free marches.”

This filled the room with silence, with the occasional shuffle from Bato, clicking the aide box close with a huff before pointing out a slender finger. “It means you better start packing up to travel woman. We’re going to a possible tournament.”

The smile that erupted from the woman was enough to give several harden Templars a permanent smile. The enthusiasm flowing off from Durga could have been pure contact high, or the occasional leakage of healing magic. Remembering how much time there was left in the day she ran out the door saying rushed ‘good nights’, hurrying back to her hovel to prepare for the life changing event. Bato looked at the vacant space that a few moments ago held a vibrant woman told to go home like a schoolchild. He turned his head to Briley, who denied look at the same vacant spot, walked towards him with a grim face. Kneeling down next to him, Bato felt the pressure of his hand caress his back out of reassurance to calm him.

“Pack up Bato. We need to get ready for tomorrow night.” Eyes glance around the room.

“I know Briley; just give me a minute to mentally prepare for this. I don’t do well unless I’m ready.”

“I know, Ba-ba, I know.” Another gentle caress to ease away future tension makes Bato’s back ramrod straight. Briley takes this action as his cue to leave the room giving Bato his space. He walks away towards the door opening it, knowing he won’t be crossing the threshold ever again. Stopping in his tracks Briley leaned onto the doorframe.  


“Bato. This will be our last job then no more.” He looked behind to watch Bato open up the aide box pulling out a vial. “We need to make this on count.”

 Bato stared at the vial as the contents swirl with purple luminescence ignoring the other elf. There was something pleasant in watching the colors change into a full spectrum of reds and blues. Something simple and endless in it’s’ cycle that showed a natural change, unless shaken from an outside force

Then again, Bato did not think it was best to question on all sudden thinking. 

* * *

 

The wind was picking up its usual smell of liquor and desperation in Lowtown tonight. Something that was more suited to Darktown’s taste and its’ inhabitants crawling through muck and surviving. Of course, one would have to frequent Darktown to make such an assumption of the residents and living condition. However, for Lady she made no intention of ever venturing there, unless it was to sink her jaw into whoever harmed her mistress. The wolf looked over at Durga, whom was currently going through her miniscule belongings. Some were brought from Fereldan, the rest acquired as necessities from her share of the winnings. Add all of that up and it still wouldn’t be enough to reach Lady’s height.

Lady only yawned placing herself atop the bed ready to act as guard- and temporary teddy bear since Durga was a sleeping cuddler like a newborn cub- for another night. This time it decided to stay vigilant due to the odd smell that set her fur on edge. Something to that smells reminded Lady of the Wilds, whenever hunters were after her and her pack.

Lady felt movement on the bed as the weight of her bedmate was fidgeting. It seems Durga could not go to sleep faster. Maybe she was just as anxious from the feeling as well. Tail twitching against a shaking leg calms the both, for only a second, before Durga lets out a small healing spell.

“Might as well be fully rested, in both body and mind. You’re going to watch me aren’t you Lady?” A soft growl and nuzzle are her replies. “Thanks girl. Don’t know what I do without you. I probably end up insane, lonely or in the gallows. Bah, Andraste’s left ass cheek don’t want to sleep on a sour note. Good night Lady.”

A quick snap of her fingers and the candles wisp out of existence. Lady twitches her ears listening to the breathing behind her and the eyes on the door in the corner. For some odd reason Lady feels like tightly coiled spring, waiting to loosen at the next movement. All instinct swimming under the surface for something hiding in the shadows. Another ear twitches as Durga presses into Lady like a child to their mother. 

Lady remains vigilant watching over her ‘cub’ until this ‘something’ passes on. Instinct demands it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it's beena looong while since I last updated, but my real life took alot of hits in terms of school, financial and Autism services. Hopefully the large blow set back from writing last year will be used as my outlet to focus on this story and see it reach the end.


	4. Chapter 4

The crowd was growing restless by the minute, waiting in their sections for the event they all wanted to witness. The large group of wealthy nobles who came and frequented the Blue Lagoon sat in their roped off section alongside their guards. The refugees that were lucky enough to be inside were either scattered throughout the crowd or piled together towards the back, leaving most of the space filled with Athenril's men and some of the Coterie to act as security.

Then again, this was only the early crowd. The fight would not start for another hour. Yet the energy in the room would have sufficed for a Templar lockdown for blood mages. Athenril did not know whether she should laugh at the thought, but banished it since she had business after the fight. She leaned against a makeshift bar counter, purveying over everything in her sight. Not one thing was amiss in terms of where her men should be located and the extra help.

"Getting a little ahead of yourself, acting like a queen there, Athenril."

"Please Brekker, I know better than to aim that high. Comes with unwanted attention in our line of work, plus I wouldn't make as much money if I did." Athenril never did like Brekker since he had been a two-timing bastard before he accepted into the Coterie. Now he was just a perceptive highwayman like the rest of them.

"So, where is that little golden Mabari of yours right now? Taking a flea bath to make her presentable?" A mug of ale slid down into his hands.

"If I ever rewarded that with an answer, I'm afraid even a lame joke wouldn't save you."

"Save me from what, knife ear? The fact that your men are scattered about, or the fact that I can take my winnings before your measly little hands can touch 'em?"

She held down the errant thought of slicing the bastards' throat. Of course, killing him would have been much easier, especially lately, but tonight was all business. "Unlike you, Brekker, I can't get drunk all night and let others do my work. I actually have an establishment to run."

Athenril took her leave towards a side door behind the ring as Brekker grumbled another slur towards her, hopefully something actually creative,. She took note of tonight's opponent, glancing at his build and seeing that he was no slouch. He certainly earned his title. His trainer was next to him and seemed to be going over tactics, yet instead he looked at Athenril with a cold look. The man's eyes soon warmed up with a smirk, nodding his head towards her. She nodded back in return, continuing her path towards Durga, who was already in deep conversation with Bato and fidgeting like a rabbit.

The woman should be used to this sort of nerve-racking behavior since she arrived; however, it came to Athenril's attention that the woman never brought in a crowd like this.

"So I take it you're nervous tonight? The crowd is rather large for so many at this hour, and that's not even counting those being fashionably late for the match."

Durga huffed a little while braiding her hair. "How nice of you to observe what's making me go insane."

"Well, time for you to pull up your big girl pants and get your act together. The purse for tonight's win is bigger than we can imagine should you win or not." This earned a whistle from Durga. "So you need to be in top game tonight. Win big tonight and you might be able to pay me back in less than a day. Well, a few hours if all goes well."

This earned a grimace on Bato's face, who was reading between the lines. Durga shifted an eyebrow at his demeanor, wondering if he was thinking some bad luck jinx. That was when Briley walked up to them holding a tray of teacups.

"Which round is it this time?" Durga asked holding the final braid in place as Briley handed her a cup.

"Give or take, depending on the crowd's mood," Athenril gave a quick glance to the human woman sipping her tea. "I said during the second or third round. Just be sure to make it convincing to the others. Think you can do that, sweetheart?"

Durga drained the rest of her drink, wiping off a few droplets. "I'll make sure he can chew tonight, boss."

Athenril smiled, if sardonic could pass for something of warmth, walking back to her perch at the bar. Things were going to go smoothly in the next hour and a half, but would go much better if the guest of honor arrived.

* * *

Varric was not one for second-handed stories or half-spun lies, unless they came straight from his mouth. Mostly due to their nature of being second-hand tales, they lacked certain elements to them that would make them greater. 'Could be greater,' would fit more appropriately when a man has a crowd gathered to hear about a hero's exploits. This made Varric plan his outlines, fabricated or patched up, with great care. These things had a certain formula to them, much like baking a cake or cooking a nug, which had to follow in making it just right.

"I think that lamb wasn't cooked all the way." He asked wtih a haggled groan, much like an intrepid character being introduced to the crowd leaning against the wall of his home looking pale. It was a pity Carver's stomach was not agreeing with him. There were times Varric wished he had the stomach, a phrase ill-timed, to play nurse. Even if he was the cause of said sickness

"What's wrong? Dinner not agreeing with you, Junior?"

Carver was not one for nicknames or jokes, but let it slide as the noxious gurgle in his stomach erupted. "Varric, if it wasn't I would just be experiencing the most delicious stomach cramp. I am just bursting to the seams with flavor. Why are you not joining me in my misery? You practically ate for three shore men."

"I guess Dwarven stomachs are made of sterner stuff when it come to our meals. Must be an inborn resilience to all that ale and poisoning we just love. Still, better safe than sorry." Varric set his hand towards the poor boy's head feeling his temperature, only to suddenly move it away. "By the stone boy, you're running a high fever! What was in that meal of yours?"

"I don't know." Carver held his hand up to his stomach trying to ease the swelling motion. "But it just happened…I can't be sick. Not tonight, I was supposed to watch her tonight."

"Couldn't have picked a more proper time for this junior. Here, give me your arm and lean on me. We're getting you on something soft and taking you to a healer, fast."

Much to Carver's fever induced whining, he put up a thorough fight to avoid being cared for like a sick babe. Thankfully, one of the maids took over, forcing him to rest. The cook was sure to catch hell for poisoning the last heir of the Amells, but everyone was more afraid on how Leandra would react ever since Bethany's funeral. Varric decided to sweep such issues under the rug, knowing the outcome was going to be the same around the woman. He could also take it for better or worse, since she was his employer for some of their illicit activities that lined her coffers. One activity being the poisoning of her own son just to keep inside from tonight's fight.

However, time was ticking by and the dwarf was on the clock. He exited the manor with Carver's golden ticket in pocket and a letter in hand given to a runner. The gold sovereign was a nice little bonus to make the errand successful.

It seemed the twilight sky gave a perfect view of the stars, all bright and numerous. The moon was barely shining, only a sliver of its shape, signaling the new moon. Add these circumstances to a trek through Lowtown waiting to be mugged. Check.  
Nobles and the less savory members of Kirkwall all packed in an area getting drunk and an andrenaline high. Check.  
Waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan at the after party? Left unchecked, due to testing luck.

Tempting fate was not as fun for the supporting cast in his stories, mostly due to them winding up dead or precursors for others later down the line. Yet Varric did not see himself as any faceless supporting cast. If anything, he was a main character that wanted to live the ripe old age of impossible, spinning as many tales as possible.

The Blue Lagoon came into view, with more door security than usual, who eyed Varric with disdain.

"Oi duster, no customers are allowed in tonight. We're closed for a private party." The bouncer spat out a slimy gob.

"Gentlemen, as much as I know about the time, there is a thing called fashionably late to keep the others waiting."

"Well I was told not to take any blighters in after the bell was wrung. I'm missing the best fight right now, so don' give me any lip."

Varric knew talking was not a great asset when your teeth could be sprawled across the cobblestones, so he cut to the chase holding out his ticket. "I can assure you boys I'm meant to be here, late or not."

Both looked at the thing as if it was a deadly knife. Grabbing it out of Varric's hand, the first bouncer looked it over, taking in its detail, while the other knocked on the door in a special pattern. "Oi, the last special guest has arrived…it looks like the man of the hour."

A voice shouted from the inside sounded exhausted. "We'll let him and switch positions. We need extra hands since the mishap with the fleabag taking a bite out of Nerkiel's hand. Little blighter fights like its master."

"Shit, better hurry on up in taking care of it. Let our dear guest inside." The other bouncer gave the ticket back to Varric, ushering him in just in time to see a huge wolf being 'escorted' out the back way while muzzled. Being one of sound mind not judging what went on in the blue Lagoon, Varric could not deny the gossiper in him thinking who would pay to fuck a wolf. Granted his attention diverted to the huge yells and screaming coming from the back, given the vibrations from the floor. Suddenly a great clanking sound of metal banging against metal vibrated from below to the ceiling. The noise escalated into a thunderous roar as the muffled sound of voices, from below, peaked in volume sounding damned unpleased.

"Looks like the fight are over, going by everyone's reaction."

Varric's looked over his shoulder, taking note of a shaved elf hitting the pipe leaning on the stairwell railing. He looked calm for a man not watching the fight of the century from Kirkwall's underbelly, a fight that Varric desperately wished he didn't miss and could have written down with his rendition.

"So I missed the big knockout and I'm not swimming in a sea of body odor yelling at the top of my lungs. Seems like a fair trade, since I'm sure to make some money off the results." Varric took notice that the elf didn't seem intrigued to see him.

"Oh really now, earned yourself a killing on both results without knowing Serah?" The elf in question was rather chummy.

"Serah Belzor. Yeah, you can say I betted a little on both sides, so it won't hurt me in the coin purse. Not that it won't for what I have planned later on tonight." Varric puffed his chest acting the part of the proud dwarf that others thought of him, but only false to a few.

"Well seeing as you're late with all that manly get up," Varric felt slightly insulted about his wardrobe. "I'll take you upstairs for the 'special event'. First things first, ticket messere."

Varric presented the item with a dramatic flair, only to be looked over and torn in half. Before it was given back to him the elf quickly patted him down taking away his hidden daggers in his coat and boots. Putting them away in a box he quickly handed Varric back his ticket stub.

"One for me, one for our guest. Go upstairs; I'm sure there is some refreshments and entertainment to keep you occupied. Until the real entertainment starts."

The grin on his face did not bother Varric as much as his undertones. Shaking off the feeling, he put on his Wicked Grace face, smiling like the Maker himself before ascending the staircase. Once upstairs there was a huge lounge that covered two thirds of the floor and a huge bedroom towards the back, guarded by two burly Coterie. Varric looked around noting the usual 'workers' dressed somewhat modestly with trays of food and drink. He didn't let this bother him until a man pushed by him.

"I cannot believe the ridiculousness of that fight. I tell you it was rigged from the start!" The man's accent was just as obnoxious as his manners.

"Well that is what you get for betting on a dog lord who can't take a punch. Still I do not feel sorry for all those refugees they let in. Let that teach them to know who their betters are."

Varric listened in on their conversation feeling a bit twitchy with his fingers aching to hold Bianca. Granted she was in safe hands, until he needed her for what needed to be done tonight.

He mentally went over the checklist in his head.

Shit hitting the proverbial fan? After tonight, it's going to reach the moon.  
Guards? All within easy sight at every entrance and exit.  
Party guests? All pouring into the room varying from states of boredom to joy.  
The illustrious Guest of Honor? Behind the mystery doors.

Smoothing out his coat for appearances sake, Varric sauntered into the crowd blending like a shadow. He took mental notes of certain merchants in the room going over the rounds like it was a historic battle, but ignored his greater curiosity to gather info. Venturing near the refreshment table Varric grabbed himself a glass wine before dropping a small pearl in one of the wine bottles in secret,. He moved around to the nearest person, who was thankfully already drunk and boasting about his winnings for being the first one to enter the prize room.

This gained a lot of suspicion from Varric. He didn't know what was going on, but he certainly didn't feel bad reverse-pickpocketing a small dagger into the man's coat pocket. He was then hit by a random man, who was being hauled off by one of Athenril's men, complainign about the fight being rigged. This caused the guards at the grand door to help subdue the man before things worsened.

Varric took this as his cue to sneak towards the door, looking over the lock. He heard the men shout as he worked on the lock. It was taking him a few seconds longer than he liked, but he was able to unlock it before slipping into the room. Varric quickly shut the door behind him and relocked the door. For something as tricky as this he wished he didn't leave Bianca home as he felt the urge to pet her handle.

Of course, once he saw what was in the room, he wished he had Bianca immediately.

The room was laid out candles dimly lit, various smelling oils on a small table, a wall with various tools no farmer would use and … the champ herself lying on a bed.

Varric gave a quick survey of the room, connecting the subtle dots of what the prize for these lucky winners were. The prize, of course, was sleeping rather peacefully. Her attire was something only Athenril would dress her in, like one of the working girls downstairs, leaving a small shake of his head at the lack of imagination.

 _Oh come on now, this is too primative even for me._ He thought, opening up a window while looking back at Hawke. _She's dressed in white. That's too gaudy to bring attention to her skin and she looks more like a Harem girl. I swear, no one brings out the classics with fruit, wine, and colourful dresses to hide all that beauty._

Hawke slowly stirred as Varric wrapped her in a sheet that covered her more than the ripped disaster that was her dress. Picking her up, he gave a small groan at how much the woman weighed.

 _Woooo, she weighs more than Bartrand drunk off his ass._ A loud scream erupted from the other room as the thunderous sound of footsteps rushed to the source of wine bottles breaking and dry retching. _And that is my cue to walk on stage._

Varric walked over to the window sill poking halfway out overlooking the alleyway. A whistle was quickly echoed by a similar whistle as two Red Irons wandered out of the shadows. A slow blood trail was seeping out of the shadows as well, hiding the slumped figures that left earlier outside with the giant Mabari. Varric judged from the blood splatters on the cobblestones and the fact that said Mabari was staring at him with blood on its jaws thatthey didn't do a very good job.

Carefully taking Hawke over the sill while holding onto the sheet, Varric carefully, and with as much skill needed, slowly lowered Hawke to the men awaiting below. Varric had his tongue out between his lips as he worked in concentration. Go too fast and she would fall. Go too slow and this plan would fall to pieces.

"Get that door open now. We need to evacuate the premises and grab what we can!"

Sadly that shout put Varric in a rushed mood to temper with his timing, quickly slipping the sheets through his hands. One of the Red Irons caught Hawke with a surprised look as he also heard the same sounds.

"Oi, you just used up your escape route Varric."

"I sorta noticed that, Gentlemen." A thud on the door almost made him lost concentration as he pulled out a bomb from his coat. "However we are pressed for time and I do hope your reflexes are up to par."

Right before the door broke in from the sheer force of hired muscle, Varric let loose the smokebomb, dropping to the ground. A pair of strong hands caught him with some struggle to regain balance.

"My hero. I never knew you cared." Varric chuckled before hightailing it out of there with the men and their prize. He just hoped Meeran would be waiting for them at the spot he suggested.

* * *

Athenril wasn't a woman who gave into curses or moaning one's fate in the hands of the Maker. She never was one for that religious crap or one for acting all weak. If anything she was more fond of the working out aggression in a subtler matter of disciplining her men.

She looked down at Bato, who was strapped to the chair with a bloody stump where his right foot should be and a mangled left leg that couldn't be walked on. Briley was chained against the wall, limp at the wrists and barely breathing through his missing nose as Bato looked at Athenril with steely eyes.

"I am going to ask you one time and only one time, so it be best for you Bato, if you were to answer me. Who did you sell me out to?"

Bato didn't move as he opened his mouth. "I sold you out to no one. I followed my orders and spiked the Shem's tea. That's all I did."

"Really? That's all you planned to do tonight?" Athenril walked over to Briley cutting open his bicep in a slow cut. "Because I would have thought a very loyal man like you would stay to earn his fair share before skipping out of town with his lover."

"Briley didn't sell you out either. We told no one our plan outside of the crap you wanted spread around. If you weren't so damned concern with how much money you would be making, you would of noticed how the Shem could have helped us become strong to rival the Coterie.!"

Athenril scoffed at the idea before walking up to Bato with a playful smile on her face. "Bato you know as much as I do, she was muscle. I could get that anywhere in this fishtown with the right amount of money and goods. If anything, she was a piss poor apostate that couldn't hide from us let alone the Templars if she tried. She was good bringing money either in the ring or on her back and I decided it was better to try her out for both."

She looked over her shoulder towards Marco, who was leaning against the wall looking nonchalant at the spectacle. With a quick nod of her head he jumped off, wearing an eager grin before descending down on poor Bato.

Athenril walked out fo the room, ignoring the muffled screams that mingled with the others in Darktown as she walked toward the Docks. It wasn't like her to do this to her men, but no one treats her like a back alley whore stealing from right under her nose. No one fucked with Athenril without losing something important on them.

The gold locket around her neck felt warm and almost whispered to her how she would gain her revenge for this spectacle. Her fingers touched it with a reverence meant for chantry sisters, but she had to agree with it. She would have her revenge.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains emotional triggers of implied prostitution and rape.

The night air was especially rancid in Darktown due to the summer heat wave earlier that day. The tunnels were filled to the brim with refugees and the poor getting out of the sun just to rest underground. Sadly, the sewer systems made that impossible since not only would the poor masses get sick from whatever was flushed down hourly, but they were also clumped together in one spot which made the situation far worse. Furthermore, the slavers were also out for extra profit.

Meeran held his scarf closer around his nose to stifle the smell, trying to keep his face covered. He was already on edge waiting by one of the smuggler entrances for his men. The sight of him waiting on his men was one that none in the company would ever like to see on a mission. This was mostly due to the fact that no one was supposed to fuck up when Meeran was around, since he kept a strict disciplinary reprimand.

The sound of boots bounced off the stonewalls as they walked closer. The shadowy figures of the questioning group came into view as Meeran spotted out two of his most trusted men. Being carried between them was the important "parcel", whose feet dangled along as they walked. Varric was up front with a tired look on his face as he walked into the light. He seemed haggard for a man who was more jovial in his natural state.

Then again, with the absence of Bianca at his back Varric was left more out of his element than he cared to admit. "We're here on time and not fashionably late per your requests. Can I have my pay now?"

Meeran walked over to a crate that held a ochre case, lined with brass clasps. He flicked them open with care and he pulled out a large item wrapped in lavender silk. "I took care of it." Varric coughed in disagreement. " _Her,_ per your requests in this job. How's the girl? Is she unharmed?"

One of the men rewrapped the sheets around the feet, making sure she was covered as Varric looked over his Bianca. "Aside from the few bruises from the most fantastic fight I happen to have missed and the details of all the illegal actions on the scene? Yes, she's the perfect picture of health. Unless you're talking about sleeping beauty here and not the other lady with us."

Meeran raised an eyebrow at the implication of Varric's words until the shadows moved behind them. Moving his sword out from instinct, he laid his eyes on the biggest dog he had ever seen inside Kirkwall. He almost swore the dog was more wolf from the dried blood on its muzzle.

"Have no worries my friend, she's on our side after ripping out a few throats as we ran." Meeran looked from Varric to the monstrous dog as it sniffed and nuzzled at the clothed woman. "Plus, I get the feeling she won't turn on us since we just saved her owner. Mabari dogs tend to be like that."

"Good then." Meeran lowered his weapon. "Since we could use the extra muscle, it will be a short trip to the camp. After that I'll contact you and our employer on the outcome."

The men picked up their feet, walking down the corridor running deeper into Darktown and out of Kirkwall. Their prize was safe and out of danger from prying eyes and scoundrels, but time would be a major factor for how long this would take to go wrong.

One thing that settled badly about this particular job and its qualities was how this nameless girl would be of any use to the Red Irons. His employer seemed to think she was pretty important, since information had been leaked about her mage status. This, Meeran thought as he stabbed a spider, was only a redeeming quality about their hostage, as she would come in handy should they ever need to heal a decent wound. Unless they were an abomination. Then he had full permission to let heads roll.

That alone would ease the thoughts of adding Athenril to his list of enemies who wanted to shove a spiky phallic up his arse. It wasn't like Meeran to care what the knife eared bitch did with her business, but he did vastly respect how she held her own with competition coming from the Coterie and Carta. No, this little mission of his was sure to crumble rising hopes she had at being a big contender and send her back to small fry status. That fact alone would piss anyone off to swear vengeance and kill even the Divine.

The tiled floors gave way to rocky pebbles with the sound of the ocean hitting the sand. Meeran rolled down his scarf to smell that salty, yet albeit cleaner air, as the sky was still littered with stars. The smell of campfire drifted upwind with a soft glow off towards the cliff as his camp was set up. The group was preparing for a merchant's job traveling near the border of Wildervale after a increase of bandits from the blight. Again, the pay would be well and the time spent on it would be enough to get their newest parcel acquainted with their place.

Varric was following the men who carried the sleeping beauty into a tent where a scarred bear of a swordsman was taking up guard. From inside stepped out weary-looking man with messy hair, the group's healer, who hurried them inside. Varric knew it was best to not leave an unconscious woman alone with a camp filled with men who hadn't seen a woman in who knew how long, but he wasn't so callous as to leave her to this fate when he had just saved her from whatever Athenril was planning. Then again, the sight of the giant wolf like dog following put him at ease.

"If you're worried about her purity I can assure you my men won't stoop as low as that for fear of losing more than a few whiskers." Meeran had appeared next to Varric, rolling his shoulders from a few kinks.

"From what I heard, they had a few fun moments with a couple of Fereldan refugees who pay them in other services for protecting them out of Kirkwall." Varric said, noticing out the corner of his eye the cold uncaring stare in Meeran's eyes. "I mean, a man has his needs when a mother or a couple of sisters are thankful that they can earn their way out to the nearest town that will take them."

"That's because they knew what was between their legs would be of more value than some wood carving of a dog they kept in the family. 'Side, this one has proper protection from _any_ sort of harm with us."

"Are you sure? I mean, not that I don't trust your men to back me up over the Carta, I'm just saying this is a big sausage party you're working with."

Meeran snorted up some phlegm in his throat before spitting it out to the side, walking off to his tent. "I know how to keep my men in line and they know not to cross a line when it's been drawn. I run my men with good reason and they know who to take orders from. I know when certain disciplinary action is to be given. That's the reason why I was put in charge of this, and now I am handing the reins over to someone else I trust for the training."

Varric swore his ears perked up like a Dalish elf's. "I'm sorry, I swore I heard something unbelievable stupid in my ears. Would you mind repeating that?"

"You know damn well what I said Dwarf, or is that shortness making you deaf?" Meeran stopped in front of his tent, glaring at Varric who was stomping over to him.

"Now listen here, Mayor Mcbaldspot. I told Leandra we would do this in a more subtler way that help Athenril's boys from catching wind of this and the tin cans across the lake from sniffing here. You may be able to fight them with the sword in your hand, but there is a reason me and Bianca do the talking and planning - it's to ensure no one gets screwed." Varric was playing it cool with all this back talk but he was keeping his peripherals in check for any lingering hands shifting towards weapons and the nearest escape route.

Meeran, on the other hand, was containing his anger and putting up the front that commanded his men to not piss out of line. "Well, we aren't playing with some dainty merchants who want to chatter over a proper trade route for profit or those Merchant guild meetings you run away from. We are doing things my way to ensure this goes down well." The air was getting thick with tension as both men stared down at each other. "Go report back while I attend to our little matter. Before I lost patience Varric."

Varric shook his head as he patted Bianca's holster out of necessity as he muttered. "Well if it was someone as precious as Bianca, I make sure to hire 10 of those damn dogs to watch her."

Varric ventured out of camp, planning to put his anger to use on any suspecting spiders or idiots who plan to take him on. Meeran, on the other hand, was building up a monster headache that not even a flask of the Antivan brandy he carried could ease away. Shit like this was bound to happen sooner or later, but he never did like squabble with Varric over little matters.

Shaking his head of the throbbing and settling back to the task at hand, Meeran strolled over to the tent that contained the sleeping beauty, who was being tended for her wounds. The grizzled swordsman nodded at Meeran out of respect before letting him past to take up guard again. Inside the messy-haired man had his hands glowing over her, tending to the bruises that were slowly vanishing.

Meeran walked over to a corner, sitting down to observe and get any reports on her health. With any luck, he would be able to sleep for five hours today.

* * *

The life of an Apostate was one that some people wouldn't want to be, unless they had a few key characteristics. One, they looked at the idea of a sheltered life that was for their own safety as demeaning choice. Two, they wanted a family and were willing to risk the lifestyle of venturing outside like a wandering Dalish clan, whenever the random Templar came mucking about doing his or her job. And finally, they had to give up a thorough education with access to unlimited spells in the exchange at being a Templar's plaything, whether they passed their Harrowing or not.

For one fleeting moment it almost made sense if you were the type of person inclined to spit on normality.

Owen, sadly, wasn't one for such ideals since the idea of freedom was still new to him. As new as a vintage twenty year wine in fact, but it wasn't without its perks. He leaned in his cot, overlooking the girl with apt curiosity, gauging her magic. He noticed she was quite nice-looking wrapped in the sheets, not questioning the bruises, but was a little put off by the muscles.

He could tell the woman had no proper training in her magic as she was keeping her magic barely held in her sleep. Thankfully she was only emitting the small blue and green sparks of healing magic so there was no worry over a sudden fire erupting. Still, Owen was skeptical about this whole ordeal about helping her when her mabari was doing a better job staying at her side.

A rustle of leather caught his attention as the swordsman on guard entered the tent. He stared at Owen with questions brewing in his eyes before settling them on the woman. He seemed almost stone-faced before sitting next to her.

"I take it you are going to train her as a helping hand?" His voice was rather mellow sounding for such a big man. "I ask since she hasn't turned into an abomination from all that magebane in her system. You think she would have vomited it up by now instead of healing off the effects."

"Oh, don't worry about her Douglas. I'm sure you would have used a Smite and beheaded her in thirty seconds flat, like that one fellow awhile back." Owen chuckled darkly at the memory. "Besides, she seems to be a natural at the healing part, despite the look of her attire."

Douglas ignored his companion and his musings. It wasn't that he didn't like the fellow, but since this was his job he took it seriously and wanted to make sure the man didn't toe the line about their work. Looking back at the woman, Douglas took note of her sleeping face and how peaceful it looked.

"Will you ask her then?" He looked at her chest rising with each breath.

"Tomorrow, since Meeran gave us full control to work with her and protect her." Owen walked up over to Douglas, sitting down and settling himself between his legs. "She'll be given a year's contract so we best train her hard."

Douglas' staring became slowly hard as his gaze wandered up from her chest and to her lips. "A year of learning, practicing and protection from us? I bet you're going to ask our little protégé for a raise then?"

"Douglas, if you hadn't destroyed my phylactery, I would say you know me so well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression is a hell of a thing to get over with weather changes. Anyway this is where I like to leave off my story to go into that area of adult that isnt trying too hard, but it's new for me to try something outside of a oneshot with PWP.


	6. Chapter 6

_The air was heavy with sweat and echoed the crowd's shouting. Durga did not know whether it was cries of joy for her victory or curses for her defeat. She only listened to them as background noise concentrated on her opponent. His skin was bloody and scaly from her inflicted bruises or perhaps it was a natural part of him. He was, however, extremely fast dodging her attacks like they were a mere annoying flies. She hit him with a jib but he would easily duck or turn her kicks back against her. Even worse was that all her training was falling apart from this fight, which determined her victory and possible freedom in less than a season._

_Durga couldn't risk losing, not when she needed to prove herself. Not when she could pay back Aveline for all those times during breakfast. She ran through so many 'what if's' in her mind that she almost forgot that a fight was waiting for her._

_A giant fist was aimed at her face in slow motion, leaving her with all the cruel time in the world before she was ready. The first bare inches of knuckle connected with her face, letting loose a flash of sensual imagery that featured her enjoying the act of carnage, but feeling dead on the inside._

A loud gasp, along with the fresh familiar scent of fur, both exited and entered her mouth. Durga felt the instinct of panic set in, trying to fight off this monster who was only going to gnaw her face off. A sudden rub of something wet across her cheek caused great alarm and her hands reached out to grip and snap a quick death. Instead, they met empty air as warm fur invaded the space. A wet snout along with lupine eyes took up her field of vision. Another lick came across her cheek as a second greeting from slumber.

Durga slowly turned her head to check her surroundings, noticing the startling difference from her usual quarters. The walls were made of leather, bounded by rope and set up with poles. The ground was fairly covered with the smell of grass wafting into her nose to indicate that she was outside. This put her ill at ease, not knowing how she got here and who these people were that brought her here.

She pushed the blankets off in a rush to get her bearings. Just as she stood up, the rush of vertigo filled her head and she buckled to her knees from the pain. That's when Durga finally noticed that she was covered in bandages and a threadbare tunic that came past her thighs. Luckily Lady was not that far from her, trotting over to bear some of her companions weight by scooping under Durga.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty finally awoke from slumber. Granted, I didn't think you would try to walk so soon.” A voice from ahead of her spoke with light, warmhearted humor.

The soft padding of footsteps brought the voice over to Durga, feeling the soft presence of a man emit from him, which made her feel uneasy. Lady wasn't growling out of protection, but she was still protective as usual.

“Magebane can be a bit of a pain to get used to when it's ingested around first timers or idiots. Thankfully you were only tricked into drinking it so you aren't an idiot.” Warm hands gently hooked under her shoulders and lifted her up with strain. “Boy, you feel heavier than you look. Must be packing it away somewhere on ya.”

Durga ignored the easy bait question and instead responded to an obvious question. “I was drugged with Magebane?”

“Yes, I'm afraid it was a wonderful raise from your ever-so-lovely employer.” The man managed to get her back onto the cot as Lady sat between them. “It's something I don't think Athenril does often when she puts a girl out to work. Normally, they just lie on their backs without the stuff, yet I get the feeling she wasn't going to get much agreement from an apostate.”

Durga felt herself feeling slightly ashamed and worried that he had figured out what caused her blackout, as well as her reason for being here. Looking at her with obvious concern, he patted her hands before letting a soft glow of healing magic erupt.

“Don't worry your secret is safe with me. Well, more like the Red Iron in general. Hence the reason why we interrupted last night and rescued you.” Durga lifted her head to get a good look at the man noticing his pale blue eyes and ruddy brown hair. “No need to worry. One of our many employers actually hired us to save you because they thought you had more to offer with your potential. I just think we'll leave out the apostate bit since the job is done. How are you feeling now?”

His eyes seem to fill with genuine concern, making his face seem cleaner than it actually was. Durga took particular notice of this since it was odd to find someone out in a mercenary group to be cleaner than an Orlesian.

“I feel sick, but not in my muscles. It's like,” She lied down taking in the frown forming on his freckled skin. “My head is swimming in a sea of glass every time I try to heal myself. It never felt this bad when a Templar used their spells on me.”

The man chuckled, wringing his pasty hands together over her forehead. “Well, Templars don't use spells, much to the various arguments I hold with Douglas about how they ingest lyrium to bring about those skills. It is a skill one can learn or be born with like a latent mage.” Durga pinched her face in confusion during the rant. “Sorry, I tend to ramble on interesting subjects. So I'll summarize that you were given a pure concoction of Magebane mixed with a sleeping agent to ensure you were unconscious for more than three days. That would surely means a good long line of clients who could get their jollies doing whatever they wanted without waiting for you.wouldn't worry about you choking since your gag reflex is still working fine.”

Durga let all this information process in her brain from what has happened in the last twenty four hours. She tried to not let her mind wander at the worst implications of what Athenril had planned for her. The mere idea was enough to leave her sick at what _could_ of happened to her and how lucky she is to have been saved.

This made Durga feel sour in her stomach at such a notion. She let her mother die only to be saved by her sister to exact revenge far too late. She saved her sister and cousin, only to be almost get herself killed on a trap. She let her sister go on her journey in exchange for a death sentence only to be saved by a passerby. And now she was given job that made her feel part of a group only to be used like a port side whore.

Durga didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Every decisive moment in her life was followed by a heavy price.

“ _Life is a catch! I suppose you should catch it while you can.”_

Flemeth's words never felt more accurate than it did now as Durga sat up, ignoring the pain in her head. Lady rubbed her nose into her hip, trying to ease the burden to remind she was not alone. The gesture was greatly needed, but Durga knew she had to make a decision in order to gain an edge on these moments.

“You knew I was an apostate and you rambled on about Templar abilities. Assuming you have more time to escape them, I was wondering, if it wasn't any trouble...”

The freckled man pulled up his hand in polite silence as a lumbering man entered the tent. “Owen, is she awake?”

“Yes, Douglas. However, she was going to ask something very crucial in the matter of tutoring.” Owen took a seat on her cot looking her over with an intense gaze. “Which I was going to answer, before you rudely interrupted. To answer your question Durga - yes, we can both train you.” Durga felt her eyebrows narrow at the implications of both of them. “Well, I can teach you what I know about advanced healing from my time in Neverra since you take to it like a duck to water. My associate here is named Douglas, former Templar, and will help you get used to the feeling of your mana ripped from you while working on your combat skills. Those hands of yours are rather callous from untrained staff casting.”

Durga caught on the implications of what Owen was hinting at yet went with the more obvious questions of their titles. “If you both used to belong to the Neverran Circle, then why are you in the Free Marches?”

Douglas relaxed his features as he went over his head what was the best and shortest answer to tell the woman. Taking a seat on the chair he let his sword and shield down by his feet. “To tell you the truth without going over a long winded discussion about how the order has changed into something more questioning and how Mages should be better cared for...I simply faked both our deaths when Owen escaped.”

Durga looked at them both with a cautious gaze as Lady sat alert. “That's leaving a lot more questions than what was answered.”

“Don't worry yourself over it. It was years ago when you were still in pinafores.” Douglas' remark caused Durga to look over at both men, noticing a startling difference in their age. “I see you finally caught on to Owen's looks. He is possibly the vainest old Mage I ever did meet, but I would lie if I said I wasn't thankful for his healing and blood magic.”

Owen, at this point, slapped both hands to his face as if his partner was embarrassing him like a toddler. The act only made Durga feel more uneasy at the two, thinking more unpleasant thoughts.

“Look, we aren't going to kill you for that major slip.” Owen lifted his head, letting the annoyance show in his features. Douglas only shrugged his shoulders. “But we were going to tell you if you would cater to a deal of sorts for us.”

“What would that be? Bleed children to feed your masters, partake in magical orgies draining the life of others? Because if you haven't noticed I'm more a heal-gashes-and-break-faces kind of woman.”

“Well, the orgy part was more of my line of thinking.” Owen muttered as Durga shot him a look. “Look - it isn't anything remotely bad, but we would like a little compensation from you for our gratuitous nature to help train you.”

“Owen, cut the bullshit.” Douglas gruff voice cut off his partner's sentence as he looked Durga directly in the eye. “Our business agreement can go like this: We train you and in exchange you can sleep with either of us to keep the other men off you. Or you can receive training from us and try to fight off the other men, who spend too many nights away from a brothel, and won't sell you out to any roaming Templars.”

Durga felt her voice go quiet at how blunt the former Templar was at saying their true intentions. It wasn't any better she dodged being a sex toy for Athenril's gold, but to be coerced into this. She felt Lady bristle and growl, bearing her teeth at the men. She clung to Lady who was near Owen, who was at the moment freaking out.

“Look, it seems like an awful deal no matter how you look at it; however, we won't force you to do anything unless the others catch on about you since they already are keeping me and Douglas as secret. We're giving you the option to how you can go about this.” Owen was seriously debating how fast he could cast a spell without getting his face ripped off. “It's just two Apostates are harder to hide than one.”

“Bullshit. You two clearly lived this long without getting caught and so have I. It's just another trial and error for me to hide it better.” Durga slowly got out of the cot behind lady for a better defense. She noticed Douglas stand up with a grim look on his face.

“Tell me then, how long can you go into hiding without practicing your talent? How long before you get into a situation where you need the learning or experience of another Mage to help you live another day? The fact that I could find you in your sleep meant Athenril was doing all the heavy work for you and tried to pull what she did last night. We are offering a realistic option to help train you until your year is done. It's not the best, but you are in a camp filled with men, and some of them don't touch things that belongs to another with the risk of a broken arm.”

Durga looked at him with cold fury as she tried to weigh in her options. It was true the latter seemed better as she had Lady protecting her, but the situation wasn't helpful as she was to part of a company of men away on missions. Mercenary men that were paid to kill or protect away from their loved ones or favorite brothels, for weeks at a time. This proposition was seedy enough with the unanswered question concerning her rescue. Yet, knowing how Athenril will react was more alarming since the woman would get revenge following the law to a T.

She leaned back on her left leg to visibly show how she was weighing her options. “These 'Red Irons' do business outside the city?”

Douglas looked at her with calm face understanding she was willing to negotiate. “This troupe deals with traveling and we are mostly gone for no shorter than two weeks on excursions and no later than a month on escort missions with the local caravans. The other troupe usually involves the 'go kill that bastard somewhere in Kirkwall' mentality most mercenary bands are known for .”

“So, my choices are rather limited on where I am to stay and earn my keep.” Durga leaned back on the cot. “I can either stay in a city where I have to hide from Templars and an angry Elven gang leader who both want me dead, or I can take the other lovely option of being the personal whore to two men instead of being passed around camp earning my keep.”

“At least you have a choice in the matter of how your path goes. Not many mages are this lucky to make it this far, especially if you lived in a Circle.” Owen was smiling at her to ease the tension. “I can assure you Douglas will be patient to wait until you're fully healed to share his bed.”

“Which I'm sure you'll be ready to take a piece as well?” She snapped in annoyance at the man.

“Well, unless you're up for some spooning through the night.” Durga looked with a perplexed look toward Owen. “I never paid any attention to women since Templars, like Douglas, always looked better in skirts. However, I am willing to share our bed for his weird tastes. Also should the others catch on, let's just say a mouth is just a mouth to me.”

Durga didn't know whether she should slap the man or shake his hand on the deal, even if he was the lesser of two evils. Of course, it was better to be a little cynical on this opportunity than to bet on nothing.

“Either way I look at it, it seems this seems a somewhat pleasant pact.” Durga felt nausea as her hand moved into the air, walking over to the shaggy mage. “I guess we have a deal then?”

Owen grabbed her hand shaking, rather weak in the grip, before walking over to his desk. “Well, since it's concluded and I'll be telling Douglas later, you are immediately under our tutelage.” He pulled out a rather large tome, carrying it to Durga's lap. “You have an hour of rest so I expect the first ten chapters to be finished and verbally summarized back to me.”

Durga blanched at the man leaving, before looking down at the giant tome. “Seriously! What if I can't read it. Did you even think that?”

Without missing a beat Owen went over to his small table going over some potions. “Well then, in that case, only read five chapters and we will do some hands on experience for the other five.”

Durga looked at Owen's back, contemplating if all mages were this uppity or just him in particular. The tome was rather nice bound in leather and gilded gold that glided on her fingers. Yet, as she opened the book she was presented with looping curves and intricate designs at the start of each page. This only confirmed one of her questions when she used to work in the Emporium: being a Circle Mage was filled with that wonderful opportunity to be educated. Thankfully, there was no demand to follow the chantry so her studies might do well over the following year.

Douglas coughed, looking at Durga with a sly smile. On anybody else it would of made her feel the urge to run, but she did make a rather unsavory deal that benefited both parties.

“I'll talk with Meeran and see if we can get you a proper staff. As much as you were good with your knuckles, you need a proper weapon to channel your magic.”

“If it were possible, do you think you can get me a pole-arm instead? I like to train with that in case my lessons with Owen sour.”

Douglas said no more on the subject but nodded as he exited the tent. Durga felt a little relieved after he left as Lady laid down beside her. ' _I guess I have a year to prove myself.'_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took longer than usual since I am not good with OCs.....that and this monster of an AU has me wrangling it into submission so i can try to get past act 1.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed, letting seasons change and people grow. The tales of the Warden are over making room for a new one to emerge from Kirkwall....just not in the way they always go. - Flemeth

_It was hide and seek today. Rainy days were always hide and seek days whenever mother and father were out busy and left Carver and Bethany alone to make their own fun. They always did this whenever they needed to run around and exhaust themselves to act complacent around their parents. Especially since they argued at an alarming rate over the past months._

_Carver never did like hearing his mother raise her voice and cry, especially when she was right and Father was in the wrong. How especially wrong his Father was whenever his Mother would have a fresh bruise hidden under some foundation. No matter how many times his Mother tried to hide it, Carver would run up to her to help her with everything and anything to keep her mind off it._

_His plans never fell through whenever both parents went out to an event, because Carver wasn't old enough to stay up late and attend. He wasn't old enough to chaperone his Mother to make sure she came home safely. He wasn't old enough to stick a sword in his Father, like the evil dragon that he was, and save his Mother like a shining knight._

_Bethany was the first to notice, being the other half of his soul, and felt the same. Yet how she dealt with it was much simpler than dark wishes and haunting daydreams._

_So instead they played a game of hide and seek._

_It would happen that for any other children they would get bored of the game after the first month. For these two, they cherished the game because it let them learn something new about their house that was never given any special attention. Like the small nook in the library that overlooked the foyer whenever Father came home late at night, or the blind spot on the balcony that overlooked the gardens from Bethany's room whenever they watched the stars or heard their mother weeping on the gazebo by herself. Or perhaps the greatest hiding spot: The passage into the cellars._

_This was Carver's greatest secret, because not only were they never allowed to venture in there, but it was also his favorite hiding spot. True, he never told anyone except Bethany, keeping up the lie that he had respected his parents' wishes, yet he went there on certain days to play with his greatest treasures:_

_A small sword he plundered from one of the hired guards and a weird wooden staff._

_The sword was there around the time his Father went from such a loving man to an ignorant ogre. Carver practiced with it every day and mimicked whatever he saw the Guard do in their training. The staff, however, showed up out of the blue. Carver never questioned how such an item had come into his possession. It had a carving of what looked like Andraste, arms open to greet all. He never looked at it for long, since Andraste should never be shirtless, but he couldn't help sneaking a look or a quick touch of the bust every now and then._

_Whatever the reason, he always remembered seeing that staff with a sense of doom, like his world was being turned into another tale where he no longer mattered. Where his life with Mother, Bethany, and Father, despite his actions, were going to vanish leaving him alone in that cellar connected to Darktown where he would live out the rest of his days._

_He rounded the corner, finding his sword wrapped up in cheap, sturdy cloth. He also spotted a large shadow in a corner fumbling and moving with erratic behavior. He went still in shock, thinking he came across something he wasn't suppose to see and wished to know more._

A small humming sound slowly filtered into the air, pushing away the shadows of sleep in the early morning. Fingers threading through hair and slowly scraping his scalp roused Carver to open his eyes. His entire vision was met with an expanse of pink areola, erect nipple and huge peach-colored breasts expanding and contracting with breath underneath his head.

“I went further this time tonight.” It was a blunt statement that spoke of a routine, yet there was something new in the statement. “There was a shadow I stumbled upon that was large in mass and shapeless. Couldn't make out the rest.”

“Perhaps, Sera Carver, it must be all the stress getting to you concerning your new business venture.” The voice was rather sweet with its Fereldan accent; it suited these rare moments of rest for Carver. “I've noticed you've been buying my services more often. I'm afraid my other clients will be rather angry with you.”

A large callous hand moves to caress the underside of her breast, earning a low rumble gasp. A thumb rubs around a nipple sending shivers down the woman's spine as Carver moves his head to press his lips on soft skin.“Well, by all means my gold should be spent on you to make sure you're paid well. Maker knows if anyone from Fereldan deserves it, it's you Peaches.”

“Sera Carver, you are acting too nice this morning,” His tongue glides down her stomach at the apex of her thighs. “Mmmm, and far too attentive when I'm already worn out form last night. Won't you be late with your investor?”

Carver moved the sheets, looking back at Peaches' face with playful eyes, not breaking contact. He snaked out a tongue that flicked up to savor her taste. Peaches reached out a hand that gripped Carver's hair, pushing his face further and letting his mouth openly kiss and dive into her heat.

Peaches could feel that slow burn building with each wet flick inside her folds from the assault of his tongue. What happened next was natural as Carver moved toward his back, pulling Peaches with him, until she was on top his face. She rode his mouth like a shameless rider, grabbing her breasts from the high that was building up. She closed her eyes, feeling his teeth lightly tug on her pearl, knowing he was going to make her come closer than anticipated.

Peaches didn't know how right she was as her spine went ramrod straight and her pussy quaked with pleasure. It felt too good as she laid back on the bed glowing in the aftermath that she noticed, out the corner of one eye, that Carver was dressing himself.

“You usually make sure to fuck me like a Mabari in heat after that.” Her voice was still weak from screaming but her tone was curious.

“It's nothing. I just want to make sure I don't over exert myself this morning since I'm meeting with Bartrand. That man just sucks the mental fortitude out of anyone who talks with him.” Carver pulled on his boots, making sure they were buckled in right before moving to smooth out his pants and hunt down his shirt. “If anything, I can implore him to sign me up as partner to reap the rewards from this venture. Maybe I might end up richer to pay for your services till the next Age begins.”

Peaches gave a sarcastic smile at the idea, knowing where this was leading. She knew she wasn't wife material since she worked at the Blooming Rose, then again this was her only option of work to pay for her family since barely escaping Lothering and the Blight. Still, as much as it shamed her knowing she had to pay with her body, it was the Maker's intervention that she had became Carver's mistress.

“Last I checked prostitutes make horrible wives, seeing as your neighbors will think I'll do nothing but throw orgies every night and teach our children to be whores.” She chuckled at the idea, thinking back to that ridiculous book she read a few hours prior to his visit. “If anything, I'd be more suitable as a farmer's wife since I used to be more familiar with tending to fields and milking cows.”

“I see you haven't lost that ability to milk a man to completion.” Carver smirked rather mischievously leaning down to suckle, more so like engulf, a breast into his mouth. He let his lips meander over the skin before slowly pulling back with a nipple caught between his teeth. “For good luck then to ensure you'll have a big farm to till your gardens.”

Peaches slapped Carver playfully on the ass for that subtle joke, wrapping the sheets around her. She waved back at Carver who left waving goodbye. It was a nice gesture on his part to ensure he would care for her, but he wasn't the only client who would say such things to her. She sat up, walking over to her dresser and looking into the mirror. She would have to take care of those love bites on her shoulder and breasts, or else it would give the other clients an awful idea for future play.

She applied foundation over her skin, making sure none of it was wasted since it cost her last week's tips to buy it off Grace at a discount. Still, her beauty was only superficial and no matter how much make up she added on, she still only ended up washing her face and reapplying it again. The thought was somber when reading between the lines but it was mostly the truth. Peaches was glad it was her off day, and decided it was best to spend time with her mother and go over their savings for a planned trip.

Hightown was bustling with activity per usual as Carver exited the Blooming Rose, ignoring the merchants still setting up shop. It wasn't surprising to them to see him exit the place like so many of the noblemen or clients; however it was surprising to see him out just when the sun was rising and not out in the late afternoon. Granted today was a day he did not want to fuck up when dealing with Bartrand over his future earnings, Carver was part of the illustrious Amell family and was on the cusp of earning his own finances that would lead him to a cushy life. However, after the death of Bethany his mother was slowly turning more reclusive at home and more controlling. He had suspected that it was only grief taking up manifestation, yet grief can only go so far before you end up controlling a man's life.

That was probably why he was staying more and more nights with Peaches, escaping his mother's burdening control so that he could feel free. This left him perturbed on some days until he experienced an rather embarrassing shouting match with his mother over a limited withdrawal with his bank.

That was the last straw for his pride and his way of finally gaining some control over his life. He made it clear that there was line he wouldn't let his mother cross. It was bad enough when she divorced father in an act of justice, but this fear of losing her only child was suffocating him at times that he slowly began feeding the urge to take care of his own affairs.

The Chantry bells chimed, marking the ninth hour of the day as the usual crowd of high born dwellers and their servants began their usual daily routines. Carver paid them no mind as he went to his usual restaurant, feeling rather hungry from last night's work out. He entered just as the concierge showed him to his table and prepared for his meal.

There was no need to tell the waiter what he wanted to order, since the staff knew by heart what he liked due to his frequent dining with his mother at the place. They made sure to get his meal ready as sson as possible. It wasn't news to the gossip circle that he was having a spat with his mother; however, they did value the sovereigns he paid if it meant feeding him before she entered.

The smell of eggs being cooked and mixed with the fresh summer vegetables was an intoxicating smell along with the morning mimosa that was brought to his table. Carver ate rather fast into his meal, feeling invigorated from the hot juices running down his throat. He went over in his head the day's events of what was needed. Bartrand was sure to be up until noon after another drinking party to find a partner in Hightown. Granted Carver was there buying rounds to try and get the Dwarf drunk into a deal that catered him.

The keyword was _try_ , since it was a first-hand lesson at learning. Dwarves are more resilient to their cups when it comes to inebriation, something Carver would have to take into account on his own since Varric was oddly acting more like a responsible, sort-of, uncle to him than his uncle Gamlen. Of course Varric would demand to be entitled as the story telling, attention-seeking, debonair rogue with godly chest hair with the crossbow with a heart of gold. That almost made Carver choke on his last bite, laughing at the thought of Varric getting all uppity on him.

“Sera, was the meal alright with your taste buds today?” The waiter was asking rather nicely, seeing as they were new. “I saw you have difficulty eating now and I can go admonish the cook if you like.”

“No, there is no need for that.” Carver chuckled handing the man twenty silver for his troubles. “I was just thinking of something rather humorous that occurred last night. Nothing really to trouble you. Just inform the cook that breakfast was great as usual.”

“Thank you, Sera Amell. We here at the Gilded Hummingbird do appreciate your patronage dining here. Do have a pleasant day.”

Carver ignored the usual simpering from the man walking out without looking in his general direction.

 

* * *

 

The sound of heavy breathing was being strained as a mouth enclosed over shoulder and the smell of sex was creeping into the air in the alley. Hawke tried to keep mind in a pleasant place as she gripped the wall, ignoring the wetness that was forced by lubricate for this impromptu moment. Douglas, on the other hand, could care less since he was in pure bliss, thrusting away from behind. Getting a good grip on her hips, he humped away like a madman as he chased after his end. He felt like this was the last taste of heaven he'd ever enjoy, while Hawke felt like she was escaping this purgatory. She shifted her back and tightened her inner muscles in an effort to milk him faster and reach the fever orgasm he couldn’t grasp for the last five minutes.

It was at that moment he stopped mid thrust, pulling out slow before going back in hard. Douglas emitted a shudder as his hand moved to envelope Hawke in a warm embrace. Something that she felt no warmth or any loving familiarity for.

“I'm sure you would like this to be over, but I can assure you, I will miss you greatly, little bird. For more than just your tight cunt.” His breath ran over her ear, leaving Hawke to tighten her vaginal muscles, as he pinched her clitoris. “So give me this last fleeting pleasure, as my personal goodbye to you.”

Hawke wasn't a fool to know what Douglas meant by those words, since he became more erratic and clingy during sex. The year spent training under Douglas was good in keeping up her physical condition as well as her spellwork with Owen; however, Hawke would have felt better to squash the rumor mills in the Red Irons. Some were saying she was a top paying whore bought by those two for a year and they were just humoring her with all this 'needless' practice. Despite Douglas letting his fists scare off the gossip mongers, it did little to elevate Hawke's feelings that she was nothing more than a private mistress. Thankfully her year was up and Douglas was putting her on the more dangerous travels under Meeran's orders.

This was a source of conflicting paranoia for Hawke since Meeran, on the few times she met him making inspections, tried to let on he was taking care of her with no strings attached. This thought shifted over the months that perhaps Douglas and Owen were acting out of bounds on something that was only for the leader. Or perhaps something else was amiss that kept her in the dark.

Several deep grunts echoed in the alley before Douglas finally emptied himself inside Hawke with a euphoric smile on his face. Hawke, however for lack of better words, gave him an elbow to the ribs while using a rag to clean herself up.

“Would it have killed you to come on the damn streets?” She whispered harshly while fixing her leggings. “I mean, Maker forbid I get accidentally pregnant by your damn urges to 'seal the deal'.”

Douglas coughed up a wheezing laugh to ignore the pain. “Don't admit you didn't like it. Last I remembered you gave quite the effort last time I came inside your sweet hole, Hawke. Practically made the afterglow that much more enjoyable.”

She ignored the lecherous tones from Douglas along with the deep seated anger of hearing that name uttered from his mouth while fixing her clothes. “That was due to Owen supplying me with the fail safe should you get more than affectionate than necessary. Besides, this is our last day and I for one would like to spend time with Owen since he promised me to show me hiding spots for apostates in this part of Kirkwall.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I should join as well. You never know when ex-Templar info is also helpful in these situations.” He placed a hand on Hawke's hip earning a small growl from her. “Or maybe we can look for a friendly place to stay until you find a steady job to replace Meeran?”

“Douglas,” Hawke slapped his hand. “It's been a year and our deal is over. Stop it or I will do something not worth regret.”

Douglas knew from her tone that she meant it and took his hand away from her. The year he spent training her was a liberating feeling for him. He had always dreamed of mentoring a person in the ways of a warrior, something that was left for dead during his years as a Templar. However, he knew there would be some complicated political reasons to arming an apostate to hide themselves in plain sight, let alone gain a foothold of training over spells they had no tutelage in. Douglas was grateful to have Owen to tutor the woman, with her frightening learning curve, but he couldn't help feeling perturbed at how she would easily move to use the nearest weapon than magic to aide in battle. A small part of him was ever thankful Hawke seemed more natural in the non-combative magical arts.

A small smile emerged on his face before he walked down the alley. “Right, I'll just treat us to breakfast as our final meal together. Can't say goodbye without a full stomach.”

“And an excuse to have me rub your belly when you over eat.” Hawke muttered walking ahead rounding the corner.

She didn't slow down for Douglas' quip, only moving forward to Elegant's stall to gain distance between them since the morning of her last day in service was ending so well. She spotted Lady at the stairwell, perking her head up in acknowledgment, before trotting over at the side.

Hawke felt a variety of questions she had for Lady were slowly answered on the wolf's intelligence, as it became severely agitated whenever Douglas entered their tent. Or when he pulled her aside for those quick trysts behind a tree or alley. Hawke knew Lady was restraining herself from attacking the man, for using her, but it was nice to know someone cared about her situation. If anything, it only made Hawke feel assured that Lady was more Mabari than wolf, listening to Hawke talk and take a risking saying her real name before it vanished.

The lull of the morning was rising with the sun as Lowtown was filled with those shopping in the early light of morning. Elegant was in proud form, showing off her potions as the usual mill of Lowtowners who could barely afford her wares, along with the servants venturing out to grab a good deal. Elegant was a woman of good business, but also the next best thing to a rumormonger.

Hawke rounded up to the stall slamming her coin on the counter.“Good morning Elegant. I hope you have the usual today?”

“Why Hawke, it's so nice to see you back in Kirkwall again. Your name has been popping up lately with the Red Irons exploits. I was almost afraid you let all that traveling get to your head. While you were away I've recently married and became Lady Elegant now.”

“That's nice to hear, since you prattled my ear off about the man courting you this past winter.” Elegant could barely hide the smug grin on her face, and ring on her hand, as she handed Hawke a healing poultice and green potion. “I take it the wedding was worth it?”

“It most certainly was, is and currently the best Lowtown has seen. In fact we managed to have two receptions that would have seemed bland to Hightown.” Elegant smiled at the memory twisting her finger around her ring.

Hawke wasn't one to talk of weddings ever since the debacle that happened in the Alienage. Thankfully the passage of time helped eased that scar for a bit. “Well, I fear I will have to leave you Elegant, I’m late for a meeting. C'mon Lady.”

“Maybe later I will invite you to dinner Hawke, we can go over the details.” Elegant shouted before turning back to her customers.

Hawke ventured over the stairs taking a quick swig of the unmarked potion, shuddering at the taste, before draining the contents in one go. She hated how contraceptives were produced in Kirkwall and how they couldn't make it in a easier form to ingest. Yet, it worked wonders right after said deed was done. Hawke wasn't one to hate sex, let alone with a shemlen, but that was her choice in the deal.

The change in atmosphere was pleasant on her mind as the smell of honey and summer fruits were on sell gathering attention from hungry eyes. They looked succulent and rather tasty to combat the oncoming heat, but Hawke knew better than to waste money on such luxuries. Hightown was a luxury she would never fit into, whether she be a foreigner or Lowtown inhabitant. In fact she felt more like an Alienage dweller.

Still, it was nice to fancy the idea of living in Hightown, milling about with the Lords and Ladies, gossiping about something other than Mister Fluffles taking a weird shit on the new Orlesian carpet.

“Stupid Knife-ear, this is pure silk! Do you know how hard the stains will come out?” A shrill voice was heard off the side making Hawke rethinking about her fantasy.

It was better to venture here than to think of another convenient lie to tell Douglas about why she was not meeting with Owen. The simple answer would be to say she wanted to venture up and check the wares. This, of course, would cover up two lies. The first lie being she knew where to hide in Kirkwall from both Athenril and the Templars since Owen was great in helping her hide mana, and the second lie would cover the news of the Blight ending in Fereldan in less than a year, earning others to think it was a huge conspiracy. Others spoke ofabout an expedition a certain Dwarf was trying to put together for unexplored riches. Hopefully, Worthy would have the details that she needed since he sometimes heard it through the vine about the Merchants guild.

It wasn't like she had any other sources to go by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one as usual took alot out of me due to I am following the games story, but changing up the plot for a major Au....I sorta dig myself into a hole. Please review or leave a comment about what you didnt like.


	8. Chapter 8

Sometimes the beginning of a good story starts off nice and smooth to lull in the unexpected reader. They can start off with a overflow of words that can engage the reader to use their brain and picture a painting they couldn’t paint by themselves. It can start out right in the middle flinging them head first into what is happening, then take them back to the beginning for a simple introduction. It can positively start off with a shocker of a reveal that happens at the end, then work itself backwards from the start, or just screw around with the timeline keeping everyone on their toes.

Sometimes the prime way for being a storyteller was to tell a good story to their readers. Varric, on the other hand, will say it as nothing more than telling just a good story, no matter how much bullshit was piled atop it. He was just giving his readers what they wanted to read, which wasn't a lie if he didn't know his own audience.

In the lines that he would'veused, here was Varric leaning on a wall in Hightown overlooking the crowd gathered in the merchants guild section. It was most tedious with the usual banter. A deal gone sour, someone hiring the Carta for a quick smuggle, rumors of some random man asking Bartand for a Dwarven mustache ride at the Rose again. That last one he had to smile at since he wasn't the one who spread that particular rumor and only wished he could shake the persons hand or buy them a drink. If anything he needed something as mean spirited to keep him occupied from Bartand bitching. He was either threatening at Varric for not working harder or schmoozing any nobles willing to give away pocket change for this trip.

Varric had to chuckle at the thought of any nobles funding something that wasn't tied to a cheese business or the most gaudy afternoon nightgown.

So therein lies the intrepid storyteller lounging away, in a very discreet corner of the Merchants guild, watching Bartrand put on another lively show of-

“Fuck me? Fuck you, and pay me the costs that were due two weeks ago for supplies you sodding dust biter.”

A lovely show of 'miserable bastard' for all of Hightown to watch. Then again, by the volume and picked up speed of his cursing Varric would think they be in debt for disturbance of the peace. Sadly, since his rants were heard far away from the Viscount office the Guard could care less. Which made Varric all the more happy to gain more cannon fodder for his next story he was working on. Something new needed to be ready and going by the steam in Bartrand's ears, Varric was sure he could mold the perfect anti-hero to appeal to his readers. Granted Bartrand wasn't going to be the mold for the protagonist. Maybe a two-bit villain to make way for the real villain. Or perhaps a no name thug that gets introduced then promptly killed off in the next chapter.

This tickled Varric's curiosity to imagine if he could get away with killing the Bartrand thug in less than a paragraph.

_'Perhaps If I were to build him up like a proper thug, make him seem like mister capable himself, doing a routine job that never goes wrong...then have him die of a heart attack when the hero jumps down from the ceiling.'_ Varric thought that lat bit would do wonders. Grab the reader's attention to see who else would go next to their untimely demise. _'Nah, best save that for a turning point in the story in case I hit a bump during the writing process. Which I doubt will ever happen unless Kirkwall suddenly becomes the happiest and safest place to live.'_

.Varric turned his gaze around the merchants guild to gather more fitting character types. There was the new dwarf Bodhan with his son, who forever gave the creeps when he wasn’t spouting about enchantments. Maybe a good rival to lit the fire in Worthy's arse with his price gouging lately. Of course there was Bartrand arguing with Carver of all people, in a rather heated argument. He couldn't figure out, or rather, didn't want to know what is was about since it was mostly about the Deep roads.

However, standing off to the side was a striking figure that took all of Varric's will power to not stare with his mouth open. They stood rather impatient in their coat tapping the toe of their boots. The large mabari wagging its tail, matching its master, was a sigh for sore eyes. The person looked a little thinner and more toned with muscle, but nothing could replace those plump lips. Even if she wasn't dressed to kill, it was sleeping beauty trying to gain work.

That's when the idea hit Varric like one of Bianca's bolt gone astray. He had the perfect story to write that not only would give what his readers craved, but perhaps be his greatest work.

* * *

Hawke couldn't believe the looks the men were giving her as she didn't cave under their stare. “I said I'm looking for work in the deep ro-”

“I know what I heard woman, but I doubt this is going to be a cute little outing with your lap dog.” Bartrand bellowed looking at Lady. “I could care less if it was your guard while you cook for the men.”

Hawke felt a rush of anger grow before she replied. “I can assure you I have experience with-”

“I can assure you madame, we don't need someone to keep the workers warm at night. The thought of the gold we receive will be enough.” Carver interrupted, standing in front and looking over her with a playful gaze.

Hawke on the other hand walked up until she was staring into Carver's eyes showing a bit of annoyance. “I have experience killing darkspawn to help protect them. Although you can save a lot of money if we use your pampered mouth to show the workers a sample of being noble.”

Bartrand would laugh at the balls this woman had mouthing off to an Amell, but he didn't have time for comedic timings. “Look, you and half of the dog lords say the same thing. We don't need muscle. We need money to continue and I doubt you have enough to pay on your back, on your knees or with that toothpick you wield. The answer is no.”

“Look I can get Meeran to vouch for my professional stance on keeping in line.” Hawke didn't want to sound needy, but she hoped her old employer could throw in a good word.

Carver of course took this opportunity to sneer at the woman: “Seeing as I have personal dealings myself with the Red Irons, I haven't heard much from Meeran about your services. So, much I heard from the others about your glorious deeds with Douglas.”

“See? I knew ya, aren't worth the price on your back.” Hawke grew red at the insinuation before stomping off. “Hey, at least wait until I finish talking! Damn dog lords, even their women are like the bitches they breed.”

Carver looked pointed at Bartrand for that remark. “Hey, now you just also insulted the future mother of my children. She doesn't just breed for anyone.”

Bartrand smirked. “That's not what Peaches said last week. In fact she couldn't say much since her mouth was rather busy.”

Carver let out a disgusted shout that echoed through the merchants guild into the paths toward the market as Hawke was marching towards the Keep.

She was rather livid to realize not only was this rumor a wild chase, but any rumors concerning her time in the Red Irons was no better than the gossip that surfaced through the Blooming Rose. She felt rather angry at herself for not keeping a professional attitude and sticking to path of being the adult. However, Hawke was reaching her stretching point in this city, wishing if she wasn't so piss-poor at elemental spells, that she would burn this city down to the ground. She just needed an excuse to let loose the anger.

A person bumped into her being pushed back with rage. “Watch where you're going asshole!”

The person looked scared before scrambling off in terror leaving Hawke to mull over her situation. It wasn't until seconds passed by that Hawke realized she no longer felt a familiar weight at her hip. Reaching down to fix the latch, fingers only felt empty air where coin was, leaving a rather intense gaze where the man was. Hawke went out in a full spring as Lady bolted ahead catching the man's scent.

“ _Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT! All my coins were in that pouch and earned! I swear when I find that little prick.”_ Hawke stopped her dark thinking as she came into contact with the thief turning a corner with Lady at his heels.

As Hawke rounded the corner, filled with dark glee, the thief went flying in front of her towards the wall. A bolt was in his shoulder as Lady snarled at the man. It seemed a deep chuckle emitted from the shadow corners of the man who stopped him. Not so much as a man, but a dwarf slinging a rather complicated crossbow, walking over to her purse snatcher.

“I knew a guy once who could take every coin out of your pockets just by smiling at you. But, you?” He sauntered over to the man taking the purse out of his shirt with relative ease. He smiled at him with hidden sarcasm. “You don't even have the style to work Hightown, let alone the Merchants guild. Might want to find yourself a new line of work.”

With a quick left hook the thief was knocked out, with a bloody nose, leaving him to pull out the bolt from the thief's shoulder. “Off you go.”

Hawke took all this in thinking not only was she caught off guard by a small time thief, but now her money was in the hands of a bigger thief. Until the her purse was thrown at her with ease. It seems the Dwarf thought her purse as small change.

“How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service.” He bowed in a rather gentlemen was assuring he was no threat.

However Hawke was left a little skeptical until his name echoed back in brain. “Wait, Tethras? You don't happen to be related to that vile short motherfucker a moment ago?”

“Hey now, our mother was a saint and wasn't into that. But I do apologize for Bartrand not realizing a good deal unless it punched him in the face.” He smiled actually looking Hawke in the eyes.

“But you do?” She asked rather skeptically.

“I do, my Lady. What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you on this venture and not some pampered noble going outing for a stroll. Of course, he would never admit it due to his pride. I, however, am quite practical.”

Hawke gave the dwarf a quick once over for good measure. He was dressed rather well for a Dwarf, seeing as his clothes were rather clean marking one off the list for his part of a clan. However he was missing a rather prominent feature on his face that marked all Dwarves. Then again, if Varric did sport a beard then the family resemblance would be too uncanny and she would have to try very hard to resist the urge to punch him. Still, it was rather curious for Lady to accept him being this close without growling.

“Seeing as you passed some tests about your character, you still don't seem the type to go off into the Deep roads.”

“That's only because the Deep Roads wouldn't normally be my thing, but I can't allow the head of the family to go down there alone.”

“That seems more than a passing interest to keep family safe, but I doubt I can be of any help since your brother and his partner just insulted me on various levels.” Hawke looked back towards Bartrand arguing rather furiously with the prat. “I doubt there is nothing to know about me to even merit help.”

“Oh, on the contrary. you used to make quite a name for yourself over a year ago in Athenril's hands. Seems Lowtown really misses Lightning Hawke and her furious fists.” Varric noticed the hidden pang of regret as her mouth made a tight line. “However, you jilted her for not taking a dive, ruining your honest reputation, and joined up with the Red Irons.”

“I can already guess how this will turn out.” Hawke muttered leaning on the wall, opposite of the thief.

“I only heard the best on how merchants during their travels were taken care of by your furious polearm and faithful mabari keeping away trouble. Plus, the hidden talent of elfroot potions for healing is an adding bonus when you have the knowledge for it.”

“I never used elfroot all the time...Oh.” Hawke stopped her train of thought looking and what he was insinuating, and one of her hands secretly went for her pike.

“Careful now. I only meant it as a compliment. Not often you get someone who isn't slathering leeches on your cuts. Especially when Meeran is too cheap to buy another healer when he can buy more muscle.” Varric was rather smooth in keeping his tone nice and calm so he wouldn't spook the poor woman let alone her pet. Being shit out of a giant dog wasn't on the list today.

“Still you are going out of your way just to hire another guard. There's got to be more to this than you're letting on.”

The bait was taken as Varric let a giant smile emerge on his face. “What we need Madame, is not another hired arm, but a partner to help us fund the trip.” This made Hawke look at him like a confused owl. “The truth my brother won't let anyone know is, technically he has a partner, but he can't fund us due to some conflicting problems with the banks.”

“Let me guess, his mother is holding a tight grip on his purse?” Hawke chuckled at the thought until she noticed Varric not smiling. In fact, he was looking at her with a serious look. “Wow, I didn't think that was the reason. He seems rich enough to fund three deep roads, even if he seems like a prat.”

“Well, now you know our problem. Look, let's walk around for a while and I'll give you every detail pertaining to this, but I can assure you, I believe we need a partner like you in our midst.” Varric guided Hawke towards the Viscount keep, just missing Meredith making her rounds from the Market.

“I'm willing to listen, but tell me everything I need to know about this partnership.”

Varric listened carefully before sweeping his arms open with a particular speech he had practiced for tonight's story. but decided that a simple answer would be enough: “My dear, I am just the man you need when it comes to telling a story."

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

A usual day in the Keep was mostly the bustling noise of the Nobles filing away tedious paperwork. Or perhaps the familiar clinking sound of chain mail from the city guards stationed around or on break. Or perhaps it was the monotony of seeing cases piled up with nary a sight of being labeled closed. For Aveline, her days spent working as part of the guard were, well, rather dull. She noticed it, plainly by the subtle hate her superiors held for all Fereldans, and only on her second day of training. It was all mostly from Captain Jeven and his insecurities, which Aveline wasn't going to let bother her. As long as she got the job done by the book everything was well in her book.

Except lately there were troubling patterns popping up that poked inside her head for clues. Routes were being changed at the last minute, guardsmen injury was rising at an significant rate, and training was becoming more abysmal at the gear they used. Aveline however, knew a pattern if she ever saw one, but was shortchange by the reasoning behind it. So here she was looking over the board, after a finished shift, mulling over how to solve this little problem. She didn't noticed two bodies milling about standing on the outside of her vision. If it wasn't some servant running an errand it was probably another guardsmen looking at their next time off.

"Aveline, it's good to see you!" Hawke spoke with warmth.

"Hello, Hawke." Aveline mumbled back. She thought how useful it would be to have Hawke at her side to help with this mess. That is, until she took a moment to process that Hawke was indeed right next to her and back. "Oh, Hawke. I'm sorry but I was busy looking over some jobs."

Hawke rolled her eyes hugging Aveline like a child as Lady moved in to nuzzle her leg. "I'll act the same whenever you call for me, but I'm too happy to see you again."

Aveline smiled at the two, thinking how nice it was to be welcomed until she turned her made back to pressing matters. "Well seeing you two means you must of done well for yourself working with the Red Irons. I was glad you stopped working with Athenril. Rumors told how the small fortune you were amassing for her were changing the Darktown dynamics, making it uneasy for everyone. Then again, working for the Red Irons did that for Lowtown with certain merchants bringing in better wares. I might have to keep an extra watch on you."

"Please you say that like it's bad to stir up fun in this dull city." Varric boasted fixing his coat.

Aveline quirked an eyebrow looking at him than back to Hawke, who was scratching Lady's ear. "Well I see you have Varric Tethras accompanying you. I thought you have more common sense than that."

"And why, pray tell, would that be a problem, Guardsmen?"

"Because a month prior you printed up recruitment posters for the Blooming Rose on this board. Which I have to say wasn't the least bit funny for the Seneschal."

Varric put his hands up in the air shrugging as if it were a harmless joke. "I'm just saying the guard needed to spice up their recruitment so they can catch pervs better. Not that I complain if someone Idunna were to handcuff me."

"As much as you like that She most likely throw you into the jail as well if she's being paid to keep the peace. But enough, I don't like to think about guardsmen keeping the peace in beds." Aveline ignored the devious glint in Varrics' eyes before clearing her throat. "It seems you showed up at the right time Hawke. Lately my patrols have become empty walks in the dark, but there's something big coming up and I could use you. There is a possible ambush for a caravan, although I can't find any shipments that match up. Doesn't matter, though. Highwaymen waiting for someone to rob. It's not part of my district, but I'm planning to stop it."

"So, I take it you need my special help to take care of the mess." Hawke eyed Aveline choosing her words.

"I wouldn't ask you unless I wasn't sure on needing your help Hawke. I like to look after my friends and I'm a year in debt for helping you." Aveline looked at her with a stern face but held a soft gaze.

Exhaling out her nose, Hawke looked at the guards woman before nodding her head toward the stairs. "You got yourself a hired hand."

"I knew I could count on you." Aveline smiled before grabbing her gear by her feet. "They're hidden up on Sundermount. Remote and rough, but we can make good time with a shortcut this side."

"So we use Lady to scout ahead, set up a trap and put the boots to their heads?"

The change of fresh air from the keep changed heir surrounding to talk a bit more freely as the nobles eyed them with suspicion. However Aveline ignored them as she exited the keep and replied to her friend. "I'm afraid not so much as how your used to doing this. You're acting on behalf of the guard now so I need you to play by my orders to get it done."

This made Varric chuckle, writing in a notebook, at the conversation. "You know Red I expect this outing to be more fun with your around in case we need someone to scare the bandits shitless. Not that they don't already whenever you are present."

"Hawke, again why do you have this Dwarf following us outside of his boredom to wreck havoc in the Guard?"

"Well, if you are so curious I am officially Hawke's partner, don't look at me that way I'm already taken," A quick rub on Bianca's holster helped. "in the expedition I'm planning with my _lovely_ brother into the Deep Roads."

Aveline stopped in her tracks looking at Hawke with a grim look on her face. She wanted to feel happy that her only friend was given a humble opportunity to earn a name for herself, but doing so by risking the monsters that took her Wesley away. A stony expression emerged on her face. "Well, it be best we talk about this another time in detail when we have the chance, however I like to reach our destination."

Hawke gave a sheepish smile to the guards woman, no doubt giving her some new stress, before focusing on following Varric. The trip to Sundermount was quite different than all the times she spent with the Red Irons. True Owen and Douglas were there to work as a much needed team, but living with them was a different matter. Thankfully, working with Aveline and Varric was much different. It been a solid year since Hawke last fought with the sword woman, but Aveline was still a formidable warrior, an unmoving wall of steel that took the brunt of the attacks.

Varric was helpful as well showing his crossbow wasn't just to look pretty and complicated. In fact all that complication made her a firing machine tearing out eye sockets and firing smoke bombs to hide hi away from danger. Where these two were nice, it still made Hawke feel inadequate in battle since her recent training had her casting spells. Sadly they weren't battle spells to light a fool into ash or freeze up snowmen. No, her powers were best in the field of support, using paralyzing glyphs to even the odds of being out numbered, or pulling the attackers together in hectic pull that left them dizzy.

Hawke would be lying if she wish she could summon a lightening storm to send fear into her foes, but alas she was in the back casting healing and support while Lady joined in the fray. Of course she did feel happy gutting a few unlucky idiots trying to attack the 'defenseless' mage. Of course, it wasn't sad to remind them why her staff had a long reach.

Hawke sent the last of her healing around for everyone after the crank of Bianca took down the last man. It was a little draining that she had to cast the same healing spell repeated on everyone, yet Owen wasn't the best in healing magic, just force magic and the uses you can knock a thug out with only a flick of your wrist.

"It seems we did some good here today. None of these thugs will hurt anyone today." Aveline wiped her blade on a shirt with smile from the finished task.

"You know Aveline some people have this thing called "Fun" whenever they have an off day to themselves." Varric muttered looking over Bianca for scratches.

"In case you have forgotten," Aveline kicked a corpse out the way like it was a ball. "This is my off day."

"You have officially made me scared shitless." Varric deadpanned edging towards Lady to put space between him and Aveline.

Hawke felt like laughing at the scene if she didn't feel like repeating Aveline. She was also on an off day, of sorts, but she was still looking to fill in the chore of being given orders. With a whistle to Lady they began walking back to Kirkwall in relative silence. Of course Varric filled in with stories he had heard, or fabricated most likely, just for the purpose of hearing his own voice.

By the time they reached Lowtown Aveline gave her goodbyes in hopes that her report would give her an extra pay for taking initiative to help the guard. Hawke took this time to follow Varric towards the Hanged man. Lucky for her, the Red Irons stationed here were gone on another job, leaving her free without the usual paranoid stress. Instead she could focus on feeling herself as part of the crowd, filling up with the usual drunks, while Varric lead them to his quarters.

"So, here's the thing we need a way into the Deep Roads that ensures safety at the entrance." Varric paced in front of the fire thinking over the idea while Hawke sat on his table.

"I thought either you or Bartrand would have that covered. What with being Dwarves and all."

"Madame I will let that slide until I find something equally distasteful for you." Hawke shrugged in apology. "My brother knows the way to the Thaig, but not a safe way to reach it. The Deep Roads are rarely crawling with the usual beasties that live down there and usually after a blight is around the right to venture for some extra coin. Fortunately for use, I gained some information of a Grey Warden residing in the city. If anyone knows a way down there it has to be him."

Hawke narrowed her eyes at the mention of 'Grey Warden' thinking back to the Battle of Ostagar and Kali being forcibly taken away at Lothering. For a moment she almost thought how ill humored it be to ask for help one of the people who ruined her life. Still, she had no other resources left to her.

"You seem to have this all planned out"

"And that milady is why I'm here. I also gather information that he came with some Fereldan refugees that came here not long ago. The best way to find him, is a Lowtown woman named Lirene, we talk to her, find him and find our way out closer to being richer."

Somehow, Hawke thought it was never going to be that easy just listening to Varric explain it. However, if things went the slightest bit wrong they could always steal the info out of this warden. They made their way to Lirene's hospice, letting Varric butter her up with sympathy talk, as Hawke tried to ignore the desperate situation her countrymen were in. It seems this Grey Warden wasn't just another Fereldan refugee, but he was also a mage hiding in Darktown healing the sick and his countrymen for free. Sadly, said countrymen outside didn't like the idea that two supposed Kirkwallers might turn in their savior over to the templars. Hawke decided it was a good thing her accent, and not the obvious Mabari, that deterred the fight, but also allowed them an escort to the healer's clinic.

It was like any other shanty hovel in Darktown that had the lingering smell of decay and desperation mixed into the air. It was clear as day the difference in safety for the residents were much less appealing than Lowtown, but it was also noticeable that the Grey Warden's clinic was the safest place. The men gave pardons for being rude to Hawke, on account of Lady eying them like annoying rats, as they entered the clinic. Suffice to say the Warden was hunched over a young boy lying deathly still on a cot while his parents stood by in tears. He seemed to work his magic, without disregard for them calling him a Maleficar or some other nonsense for his powers. Instead they gave him gratitude and small parcel of food.

Varric knew he could feel that familiar itch in his palms that there was a story to be written just watching the healer at work as he moved in closer. However, this caused the Healer to go from tired to alert as he branded his staff.

"Halt! I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?" He bellowed fingers lighting up with energy.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! We just got hear after being escorted by your fan club, only after they threaten to gut us." Varric explained ignoring his initial reaction to unlock Bianca.

"We're just here to talk and not cause you any trouble." Hawke hoped this would ease the tensions before Varric spoke again.

"Me and my partner here we interested in getting into the Deep Roads and rumor has it you were a Warden. So connecting the dots, we were hoping if you knew of a safe way."

"Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" Anders suddenly looked forlorn on the subject. "I'm not going back. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads terribly."

"I'm going to regret asking this, but you brought a cat into the Deep Roads?" Hawked asked in disbelief.

"He was a gift, a noble beast. Almost got ripped by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood, too. However, a certain blighted Warden said he was 'making me too soft.' I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine before I left for good."

"Well I heard joining the Grey Wardens was permanent like my relationship to Bartrand."

This earned a scoff from the healer as he sat down on the cot. "The 'hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn' and 'plagued by nightmares about the Archdemon' parts don't go away. But it turns out if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

"Despite you abandoning the Wardens, you still have information that would be helpful to us. Any information yo have could save people's lives on this trip." Hawke looked at him giving her best calm features to not scare him.

The healer on the other hand showed a small smile before frowning his eyes. When he looked up he made eye connect with Hawke. "I would die a happy man if I didn't have to set foot back into the Deep roads. You can't even imagine what I've come through to get here. However, if you were willing to help me in exchange. You help me, Ill help you."

Hawke felt the tension in the nape of her neck raise hoping he wasn't going to ask for something underhanded. "Let's be more specific. I don't do anything involving children, animals or anything degrading."

"I originally came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage who was transferred only to become a prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The Templars learned of my plans to free him, so I will need your help to bring him safety outside the city. Help me hide him from their eyes and you shall have your maps."

Hawke remained silent as she narrow her eyes. "Your practically asking us to make the Templars have us on their most wanted list."

"I'm not asking you to kill any should they decide to take you to the Gallows as well. If we fight any Templars, it is because they decide anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without questioning."

"Well, no harm will come to me since I can just bribe them with tells of lyrium dust." Varric joked as he patted Bianca.

"Joke as you may, these are my terms. If you want aid with your expedition, meet me in the chantry tonight. I have sent word to Karl-"

"Hold on a damn minute!" Hawke shouted scaring some of the patients. "You basically were going to go, either way, to save your friend, yet you think _maybe_ you could of let us known ahead of time you already contacted him and meeting him in the most Templars infested area?"

"I don't see how it matters since _you_ need my maps. We will meet outside after hours and maker willing, we will all leave free men." The healer stood his ground letting the words sink in.

Hawke held in her anger before shaking hands with the man wishing to rip it off. "I guess we have a deal mister.."

"Anders." He said before going to help another patient. "Its just Anders."

"I'm Hawke and this is Varric." She said before leaving with Lady at her side.

Varric took this as a sign to say his goodbyes before catching up with the woman. Last thing he needed was a repeat event of carrying her through Darktown to safety.

Aveline was pacing in Varric's suite as she went over the events from the Keep. It seems she was right about the Captain somehow in on the attack, since he berated her out of his office on temporary leave. Never mind the fact that Brenner came up to her giving details about how it was her shift that was suppose to carry the parcel that was in question. Now that hands were changed and the patrol rerouted, this left a decent guard in trouble during the early morning shift to act as bait. Aveline knew her chances were best with Hawke helping her get the evidence she needed to solve this. Luckily for her Hawke entered along with Varric looking glum as usual.

"Hello Hawke. I thought I update you on what happened with the outcome of our little sortie that might require your help again."

Hawke grumbled as she sat in a chair. "Only if you hear what sort of job I have tonight and what it details."

Aveline felt a little on edge thinking her backup was going to be complicated. "Well only if it isn't too late since I need your help protecting a guardsmen from the latest ambush."

Varric took that moment making a grand entrance into his favorite chair. "Red, I hate to say it, but you just given me the best idea to hit two nugs with one bolt." Aveline gave a quizzical look along with Hawke. "Ladies how familiar are you with the term Alibi?"


	10. Chapter 10

Anders was waiting, hidden in the shadows of an alcove, as he kept watch over the Chantry. He kept his eyes on the entrance to pass the time as his thoughts whirled about like a murder of crows. He didn’t know if he could trust the people he coerced earlier, but anything at this moment was needed to save Karl. Justice was humming under his skin voicing his opinion on the matter suggesting that they do away with this cloak and shadow. Anders knew that the idea seemed pleasing but his time in the Wardens did teach him the act of subtlety when sneaking was a priority. Justice on the other hand could understand the military aspect as Anders tuned him out. Several shadows emerged through the courtyard.

Anders pressed himself against the wall noticing a group of shadows walk into the courtyard. On further inspection it was the mage Hawke followed by her mabari and Dwarven companion. They seemed rather shambled with another person dressed in the city guard.

“Sorry that we're a little late, but it seems cleaning out an inept gang was tonight’s' surprise on the way here. It's just going to be rather hard to explain how a very controlled fire in Lowtown started.” her mabari gave a hard whuff scratching behind its' ear.

“That Hawke is something I rather not see again or have to explain.” Spoke the city guard, making her the more rational person of the group.

“Relax Aveline. If anything it proves how bad the crime in Lowtown is to pin it on a rival gang.”

“Say as you may Hawke, there are still rules and inspections to be made that will prove you wrong.”

Anders coughed gaining their attention before they wasted his time with this obvious familial act. “I hope you are all ready as I have been watching for awhile. No one has gone in or out in the past hour, so that seems we wont run into any problems.”

He noticed they all got quiet after that, clearly readying themselves for battle. Anders considered it sheer luck he ran into a group that could handle themselves or the fact that the mage had a very large, and uncommon mabari imprinted on her, might give away there was more to her than stated. Justice hummed in his head reminding him to focus on the task at hand. Karl was important right now.

They entered the Chantry as quietly as each person could with their skills. Varric seemed fit to walk in without emitting a footstep no louder than the mabari's claws clacking. Hawke did a somewhat surprising job as well sticking to the shadows before reaching the stairs. It just seemed Aveline was the worst trying to keep her armor clanking as loud as she could. It was the dead of night and they trespassing on the holy grounds of the city's church to help a Circle Mage escape. As the number of laws being broken and citations counted off in her head, Anders made his way up the second floor. He had found Karl sitting in front of the many fireplaces, with his back turned to him, reading a rather thick tome. He didn't notice the group nor acted he heard them while flipping a page.

“You always were one to act on your emotions Anders. I know you all too well. You would never give up if it involved freedom.” Karl said all this in a rather calm tone.

Anders, disturbed by the speech, lost all sense to remain stealthy and walked forward. “What do you mean by that Karl, and why are you talking like-”

Karl closed his book with a sudden snap as Templars burst into the area. Varric began humming as bolts went flying into a hunter as Hawke gutted another who silenced her mana. Aveline was busy rounding up the rest that were trying to attack an oblivious Anders. His mind was miles away focused on Karl at the very idea that left him cold.

Karl turned around revealing that horror to be true and painted like the sun scared on his forehead. “I was too rebellious as you are. The Templars knew I had to be made an example of mages that test the balance.”

Anders didn't want to hear anymore after that. He let down his guard on purpose as the hate built up to release Justice who was screaming for vengeance. The Templars were surprised by the sudden flow of Fade energy rifting into the room that no one notice Karl look at the scene before him with awe. Anders never noticed nor cared as Justice let loose magic that easily iced and electrocute his enemies.

As the last Templar stopped his muscle spasms Anders fell to the floor exhausted. He couldn't hear anything in the dull noiseless zone that entered his ears, not could his brain comprehend what just happened. All he could see was Karl talking to Hawke in an excited matter. It wasn't until Karl grabbed the woman on the arm with a frantic face begging her for something. Anders was questioning how Karl had suddenly gain his emotions until Hawke stabbed Karl.

Anders felt ice running through his veins in outrage until Aveline hoisted him over her shoulders. Varric was busy taking lyrium off the dead Templars and ridding of any incriminating evidence of their presence. Anders paid them no attention as he stared at Hawke running behind with her mabari. He stared at her throughout the night not caring if it was unsettling to her, nor did he care if he had to hand over his maps.

They slowly changed their run to a brisk walk as they arrived around the corner of the informed attack on Donnic. Varric took the time to go over the spoiled goods to make sure everyone was ready. In his mind they went through three epic battles, which he would have had more fun penning, but left him a bit tired. Aveline and Hawke, however, showed no signs of dire fatigue since they were used to this.

“Hawke this is the last time we ever do something that, that irresponsible again on the Chantry grounds.” Aveline huffed gently placing Anders on the ground. “The death of several Templars and a tranquil mage leave more questions than answers.”

Anders felt this was misplaced sympathy for the death of those monsters ignoring the lyrium potion handed to him by Varric.

“Trust me Avy, if I had it my way there involved sleeping poison and rope instead of the fire and brimstone that our surprise guest pulled out on us.” Lady whuffed in agreement with Hawke eying Anders with disdain. “Still we did what we could and made it in time to help your fellow. That should put us miles away from the unspeakable incident.”

Anders perked up at that last word. “Incident? Killing an innocent man who was the plaything of his tormentors as a simple incident?”

“Watch your tone and learn to keep your glowy eyes under control. You weren't altogether with us when he practically begged us to kill him so he wouldn't go back to being...that.” Hawke crossed her arms to fight off the disturbing feeling of the tranquil man. “I never knew they did that to mages in the Circle, but I can understand that a wounded adult asked me to help him end his misery. I'd be a poor judge of character if I simply ignored the man.”

“So putting him down like a dog or a horse with a broken leg was much better than trying to see if somehow they botched his tranquility. We should go back and just burn the bodies when we had the chance” Anders felt the surge of Justice coming out, with the aide of the lyrium, but quickly tuned him out.

“Hold on there sparkles.” Varric pulled the mage down by the shoulder. “In-case you haven't noticed your little task put my partner in high risks of being committed to the gallows. Now I'm not condoning as what we did was right or wrong, but we are currently as far away from the site and building up a probably alibi should you like to get back to helping people.”

Lady at that moment sat up sniffing the air as the familiar scent of blood flew through the air. Her ears twitched at a distant sound of metal alerting Hawke. She in turn looked to Aveline who was finished up a stamina potion before brandishing her blade. Anders took that moment to understand that they were needed before they rounded the corner.

Aveline knew as soon as she saw one of her fellow guardsmen bleeding and on the ground, surrounded by bandits was enough to confirm her theories that Jeven was son of bitch ill fitted for the rank of captain. She charged into battle like an infuriated lioness claiming blood for flesh hurting her own. Anders concentrated on healing the wounded guardsmen while avoiding bandits trying to take him out as the easy target. He would be lying if he wasn't grateful for Hawke placing glyphs, that froze some in place or forcefully repelled some, as they ran. If anything he was surprise she could put up so many without exhausting herself fighting along side Aveline.   
It almost made him respect her. Almost.

As the last bolt whizzed into another nameless carcass, Varric wiped Bianca over his shoulder before collecting bolts and other trinkets. Aveline took it upon herself to look over Donnic's wounds to make sure he didn't suffer anything permanent.

“A-Aveline? Is that you? By the Maker, aren't you a sight for sore eyes. I thought I had my number up tonight.” Donnic stared up in awe towards hi savior.

“Guardsmen Donnic,” Aveline had a rather flushed look on her face from the fight. “Are you alright?”

“Other than the pounding in my head, I could be worse.” Donnic groaned before.

“Rest up guardsman. I'll take it from here. Hawke.” Aveline moved to the woman looking inside the satchel. “Is there anything inside that was worth all this trouble.”

“Oh more than plenty Avy to make you a damn hero. Seems Jeven was selling secrets to the highest bidder on certain shipments the guard were on and other lovely tidbits from the Viscount.”

“I knew it. Thanks Hawke, this will help me put that son of a bitch away for good. Back to the barracks, I want to give this to the Seneschal right away.”

Varric took this moment to pat Anders on the shoulder. “You two go ahead. I’m going to escort our friend back to clinic for the maps then head to bed. Bianca needs her beauty rest.”

“I'll come by the afternoon to check up on that Varric. C'mon Lady.”

With that the group split up to their destinations in the early morning. The sun was rising as Varric opened the door to his suite feeling the ache in his bones before slumping onto his bed. The battles of the early morning in his mind were too much for his precious sleep schedule to be tampered with the weird shenanigans. Thankfully he gained some helpful info pertaining to Anders 'condition' as well as the maps needed for the expedition. Bianca was settled onto her usual pillow as Varric moved to his bed. Stopping to take a big breath. “You know your scent gives you away whenever you visit.”

He turned around to see his favorite guest, Leandra, sitting in his chair looking amused. “I take it you had a rough night with my daughter and her friends?”

“More than you think if it didn't involve killing Templars in the Chantry.” He noticed the nonplus look on her face at the mention of dead Templars. “Don't worry we made it look like another random apostate killed them while cornered.”

“Varric, you are already giving Meredith another reason to pressure the Viscount for more Templar patrols. However, I will have to take action to make sure she is guarded well until then.”

“No need to worry milady, we have a reliable alibi that places us saving a guardsman from ruthless killers, under the orders of the Captain of the city guard, from uncovering some corruption. If your lucky you can enjoy a thrilling show with your breakfast of Jeven being escort to the jails.”

Leandra shook her head at the dwarf seeing as he was running the gears in his head for another thrilling story. She knew Varric wasn't one to betray her or outright lie, unless it was to embellish a true tell in their favors. A rapid knock on the door caught their attention as Leandra stood from her seat.

“Since we have much to talk about, I will leave you to your rest from tonight’s' exertions and meet up with Carver for breakfast. It seems I have much to talk with him about better uses for his finances.” Varric shrugged at the mention. “Hopefully it wont give me much of a headache while I’m visiting the Grand Cleric since Brother Sebastian is causing unrest over some family business. I'll have Meeran send you the info.”

Varric grunted in agreement as sleep settled in his head walking Leandra to the door. Locking it behind, with several bolts in place, Varric fell on his bed trying to process various info in his head for the next couple of days. Hopefully this wouldn't lead to another all nighter spent running around, because Dwarves were meant to spend long nights drinking and telling stories. He drifted off to where ever that Dwarves go when they slumber into a deep sleep that the dead would envy. It wasn't until well past noon that he heard the other drunks waking up to start their usual routine of a liquid breakfast. Varric knew it wasn't ideal to start off drinking early in the day, but it's always noon somewhere in Thedas.

Rousing himself from the soft confines of the covers, Varric ventured over to his personal bathing room. It mostly consisted of a water pump, medium size copper tub, mirror and sink. It also looked like it fit three very starved Lowtown children, but was enough for a normal Dwarven man. Water splashed on the contact of skin, waking him up slightly more, as the agenda for money came into play. Varric knew that for all of Leandra's wishful thinking she could just mysteriously donate fifty sovereigns towards the partnership giving them an easier time in training.

“ _Of course, if that were the case then she simply would of intervened sweeping up Hawke to safety from the get go.”_ Varric chided himself lathering up some cream. _“Even I know that would be suspicious just to take it. Stories like that usually come with a price to be paid. No, gotta test the poor woman while working in the shadows being all coy about interference. Just like a mother.”_

Varric chuckled at the thought as he trimmed his face into the usual. There wasn't much he could think of in terms of how they could earn some money. Taking out the Sharps proved to be a good venture since they earned the ear of the Red Jennies. Most likely that get them started on the way but there wasn’t enough gangs for them to kill earning that money. Exiting the wash to dress up Varric got dressed to welcome the day and usual ears that were graced by his voice. Said casuals getting drunker by the second, He pulled up to his usual spot signaling Edwina for his pint. Mulling over expenses for their capital, he went over mentally the usual list of contacts to earn a few payments for favors he wouldn't usually work on. It would most likely consist of the lame excuse of butting into people's business solving their problems like a fetcher. Granted not many of these problems walked, like trouble personified, with all eyes on them that screamed big target.

If Varric was a betting man he was sure the thunderstorm that was growing outside might wash him up a problem to solve. Or else he dress and drag and dance the remigold.

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Carver sat still in the darkness as the shadows moved about in their questionable actions. He couldn't tell how many hands it had that moved, but he could hear the sound of clothing moving and greedy moaning from one of its' mouths. He knew that magical creatures and monsters didn't exist in the real world, unless you were a Mage, or the real monster parading as father._

_A loud gasp echoed in the room gaining his attention as a familiar sound. Carver always heard this sound in the sighs his mother would do whenever the servants handed her a perfect slice of cake. The sounds his mother made after sitting down from a long night of dancing in the ridiculous shoes she hated wearing, but loved to look in at the balls. Sometimes it was the happy sound she made behind closed doors with father in the dead of night, as the only time he would show kindness towards her._

_Sounds of 'please Guilliame', 'not so rough that hurts' and other excuses she made towards the evil man echoed throughout his brain from dark nights he couldn’t sleep through._

_Carver slowly began to comprehend that his mother was down here with someone who was hurting her again and yet, she was doing nothing to stop it. He felt that usual well of rage swell up inside trying to calm it, for fear of getting caught watching. However, the rage denied to be swayed by the notion of being afraid. Instead it rose into a mighty beast charging at the shadow and demanding blood for hurting his poor sweet mother. Carver never took notice that he was hitting the shadows, now a man easily blocking his blows, nor of the sword still sheathed, or of his mother holding him back from safety._

“ _Please, Carver, he meant no harm!” Warm hands that smell of lavender and safety._

“ _He's hurting you mother! He can't be allowed to live!” He swung each blow without accuracy caring only to land random blows. “Can't be allowed, can't. Can't! Can't !Can't! Will not allow it!”_

_Leandra held him tighter to ebb his rage with her love, as tears fell on her arms, not of her own. It felt like long grueling hours had passed without giving way to let the beast out; Yet Leandra still held firm to her child shushing him._

“ _It's alright love, shh let it out. He wasn't harming me. Malcolm,” Carver let up in his tantrum for a slow second. “ would never harm me dear sweet child. He was just helping me heal. That's all love. Shh, let it out now.”_

_Carver could hear his mother's words, but he still was lost in the rage of making sense of their meaning. The words he understood were always meant for a child's ear to understand children words that were filled with ignorance and little understanding. His mother was using the words of an adult, which he wanted to deny understanding, who grew up learning of the world. He never did notice when he stopped hitting the shadowed figure, nor did he care when he let go of the sword, he only cared for nuzzling his mother, better in the sheer fact she was alright._

_His vision was filled up with tears, his mother's hair pressed to his cheek and the smell of her skin lulling his anger. He felt happy to be in her arms as she petted and sung to him lullabies he missed hearing as a babe, but held no recollection. He paid no attention to the presence of another hand on his head, smoothing out his hair, with timid care._

“ _My boy what has happened to you?” The voice was dark, yet calm, that ignited no form of hate, only sorrow for what just happened. “What has happened to produce such...”_

_Carver moved his head towards the voice seeing only a little bit of features to remember. All that entered his vision were smooth shadowed skin with warm golden eyes._

  
  


Carver reached out into thin air with a fear driven frenzy as he escaped his dream. His skin felt sickly with sweat from heat as he rubbed his face for assurance he was awake. Looking to his side was his usual bed-mate, slowly waking up, ignoring her nudity to tend to him.

“Please don't, go back to sleep.” He growled shifting his legs off the side of the bed.

“I was going to wake up anyway to use the pot, but your whimpering tells me you need a hug.” Peaches yawned with affection as she went to relieve herself.

Carver rested his elbows on the knees, back bent, staring at the vanity mirror showing his reflection back. “I don't need you coddling me like some helpless whelp, whenever I have a stress driven nightmare.”

“Well this particular nightmare has been really persistent riding your ass like its Batrand.” .Peaches smirked at the image thinking where she put her riding crop.

“As much as that idea frightens not only me, but any remaining innocent thoughts I had, I'm telling you woman there is no need to mother me. This just comes and goes as it pleases.”

Peaches laid back in the silken sheets eying Carver with hidden amusement in her eyes. She had noticed in the last couple of weeks an increase in his surly attitude over his day to day matters. Most nobles talked about the more lewd things to her when they paid for her services, others tended to wax poetics about false promises on how she is essential to their happiness. However, Carver, who happened to being a mixture of the two, at least told her these words as if she was a human being and not just some one night sweet meat.

“I could comment on the coming part since you do plenty of that on me with that tongue of yours.” Carver turned around with a 'not now' look on his face. “What? I tell you plenty of times and you act like the maker gifted you with the biggest cock this side of the Minanter river. I hate to break it to you, but at some point a man comes in with a big cock and half the time they don’t know what to do with it, and the other half expects you to kneel down and praise it with your mouth like the holy symbol it is.”

“Yes, I am quite thankful I don't fit either, in the remote bit, yet will still make sure your bones are turned to jelly.” Carver leaned back in bed, on Peaches bosom, as she wrapped him in her arms. “Yet, having a big cock won't solve all my problems or else I be more popular then Jathen. In truth I'm just so tired from planning this expedition. I sometimes think I should just tuck my tail behind my legs and beg forgiveness in having my own purse.”

He snuggled into her chest ignoring the sounds of the other patrons. “You know Serah it doesn't hurt to ask forgiveness when your down and out of luck. Never know when someone might be grateful to help you.”

“If only you knew how my mother has become lately.”

“Well then. There's always other options to raise funds through Darktown if you have the steel sharp enough to cut anything.” He mumbled at the thought nuzzling a nipple. “Or if getting your shoes mucked isn’t a fun idea there is another way.”

“Hmm mm I'll listen in the morning, which is a few hours from now, so I like to enjoy my time with you while I can.” Carver popped a nipple into his mouth before willing himself to sleep.

Peaches took this as sign of him getting into his particular fancies, which thankfully ended with an extra tip. She winced as he nibbled lightly with his teeth, trying to fall asleep as well.

  
  


The Hanged man was rather noisy as Hawke entered for the night with Lady in tow. The casuals were out in full force running the rumor mill, since the latest escapade of quickly gangs appearing and popping out of existence, were swept away with the Qunari. It seems the summer storm that shipwrecked their vessel surprised the Viscount during the Summer day Debutante ball.

Hawke on the other hand could care less about the gossip over horny horned men and was focusing on her monetary troubles for Batrand. She walked to the usual corner table in the back by the stairs with her back to the wall. She waved down Norah, who was slapping another lecher, while letting her mind wander. Things weren't that bad since working with Varric helped out in gaining information for new jobs. However, the jobs lately have been more or less street cleaning where the City guard can't handle.

Hawke found that ironic in the least bit since they only gained their shield man in not only taking out a corrupt captain, but only to lose her to a promotion. She couldn't fault Aveline for the success that was due, but it was costing Hawke some sanity in being caught casting. Lady was helpful in crunching into flesh earning the respect of all Mabaris, but she couldn't block several blades at her hindquarters. This left Hawke on several occasions to lose sleep taking her to Anders clinic where she could heal her.

She didn't like how the Healer would give her the evil eye whenever she came by, but he always gave her a small bit of respect when she helped him heal patients. Still she had no idea how they came to this tumultuous truce.

“ _I take it that was no ordinary magic used to kill Templars?” Hawke stated eying Anders like a wild beast against a wall._

“ _Yes, well, I was afraid this would come up sooner than I would like. I met a friend, a spirit of the fade, who was trapped in the body of a corpse during my time with the wardens. In short he helped me survive the assault on the Keep, by fusing with me, ensuring no one would follow us during the confusion.”_

_Hawke looked at him with mute curiosity pushing herself off. “So, I take it you're some short of special abomination that only lets his inner demon out when he's on the rag?”_

“ _Justice isn't just some mindless demon who is bent on staying out of the Fade or gaining as much power from a willing Mage. He was accepted into me so we could survive and help others who didn’t get that chance.” He felt the small glow on his skin insulted by the woman's candid humor._

“ _I can understand your passion for helping, but that will only get you killed or more likely, used for someone elses' gain. I pretty much am helpful for your maps, but-”_

“ _So you say since you didn't stop to murder a good man.” Anders stared at her with anger. He didn't notice the small movement in her eyes walking up to him._

“ _Listen he was asking, no, pleading for help due tot he fact he was living a half dead life. I did the merciful thing and made sure he was still 'Karl' in the end.”_

“ _More likely to distance yourself from other Mages who don't have it as good as you. I'm sure there’s a family who do anything to keep you safe while you titter around playing....” Anders stopped his rant by a flashing set of deep brown eyes looking at him with anger._

“ _Listen mister stick up his ass, I'm just another Fereldan refugee who has it just as hard as your patients, but unlike you, I don't have anyone willing to protect me because I give them free healing that would cost them the gangrene on their leg.” She poked him hard on the chest. “Plus unlike you, some of us don't get the chance for all that fancy Circle learning to help with magic, so piss off.”_

_She turned around ready to leave in a huff over how arrogant the Mage, no apostate, was in telling her who were her betters. Hawke didn't get far, until she felt a hand gripping her wrist. She turned around ready to fight, knuckles crackling with pressure, until she stopped._

_Anders looked at her with a mournful look that seemed genuine. “Despite what I have said, I am grateful for you helping my friend find peace. He didn't deserve that, and yet, I am glad I asked you for help.”_

“ _I would of done it for free.” She looked him in the eye noticing the tension leave._

“ _But you needed my maps.” His voice was rather jokey for a moment showing he could be human._

“ _Yes....that and also,” Hawke looked back to Lady who was limping towards them. “I was wondering if you could help me with Lady here, since I’m not that good with healing.”_

“ _But you know enough to help?”_

“ _Only enough so the limb isn't lost. Of course that doesn’t help with the scarring.”_

“ _Perhaps if you could show me I be helpful to repay you in some learning-”_

“Hawke are you there?” A voice sounded to her side as Varric entered her vision followed by Aveline. “You were looking a lost in there for a moment. Mind telling me where your mind was heading? Maybe swimming in a lake of fine silk you'd buy from the expedition?”

Hawke rolled her eyes as the two took a seat at the table waving down Norah for additional pints. “You know she'll just forget you're order and you'll have tot get it yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure she'll get the order right since we made it safer for her to walk home. I mean with the great Hawke and her trusty Mabari prowling the streets of Kirkwall, like a dark crusader, dispatching bad guys when the city guard can't touch them. Hmm, I better write that one down.” Varric pulled out a small notebook and pencil jotting down what he could.

Aveline gave a sideways glance towards him. “I think it be best if you didn't sprout out rumors of vigilant justice being committed by a lone antihero.”

“First off Red,” Aveline crinkled her nose at the name. “Everyone loves a good antihero dealing out spoonfuls of justice for those who cant. Second I can write it, if it's true since Hawke over here did clean up the gang problems in Kirkwall.”

“Even if it means shit pay, bruises that last a week, and hiding from Templars?” Hawke mumbled poking Aveline on the arm for attention. The Guard captain looked up at Hawke pointing to a dark woman in clothing that was clearing against several decency laws, if it weren't for the daggers on her back, surrounded by armored thugs. Hawke put up two fingers before tapping them on the table as Aveline did the same.

This left Varric piqued in curiosity catching a quick before continuing to write. “Hey every little bit of coin counts to our pockets, even if its chump change. However, we can't help all the little people since its been a couple weeks, so we need to plan big.”

“Varric with the way things are now I won't find time to keep my hopes up since we are lacking a crucial point to these plans.” Hawke eyed the woman cleanly punching one of the men. “The fact we are down a couple heavy hitters make us non-manageable since Avy is now officially out.”

“I also like to add that the only time I can help is if it concerns official city business.” The woman was now holding a dagger to the man's throat as Hawke grumbled sliding two silvers to Aveline. “Or getting as much patrol time while I can. Something tells me this promotion will be more of a desk job. In short I expect some gratitude for helping you on these unsavory jobs and keep Hawke here out of trouble.”

“I should feel grateful since you also have no qualms taking my money.” Hawke grumbled.

“That's because you're horrible at betting. Here,” Aveline swiped the silvers back towards Hawke. “Buy me one for the road.”

“Want me to also don a skirt and serve it in your lap Avy?” Hawke mumbled ruffling Avelines hair as she walked by.

The room seemed to have gotten louder as the bar fight from before riled up everyone's blood. The blood on the floor wasn't even dried before Corff was busy griping about the stains never coming out. Hawke almost laughed at the thought of keeping any stains out the floors.

“My, and here I thought the only men in this place were besotted fools who couldn't hoist the mainsail.” Smokey feminine voice said as Hawke got closer.

“Funny, when you talk about hoisting the mainsail, what do you really mean?” Hawke waved down Corff throwing the silvers on the counter. She eyed the other woman taking in her extravagant jewelry and weird attire.

“What else could it mean? It requires strength, knowledge of rigging, and a small measure of sobriety.” She purred in that last bit looking over Hawke.

“Well it's good to know what's needed since I have neither experience in raising my own mainsail.” Hawke ignored the woman's rich laughter.

“Oh, it is such a treat to hear another mind that hails from Llomerryn. Maker's balls do I get enough of these Kirkwallers holding up their noses or sniffing my skirt.”

Hawke wrinkled her nose at the assumption grabbing the ale. “I don't want to be rude, but you're not the first person, or the last, to mistaken me for a Rivaini. I hail from Fereldan like all the refugees that washed up here.”

“Should of figured you for a Feraldan. You got this look about you that they all have. I was just in Denerim before I washed up here.” This earned a look of curiosity from Hawke. “Hah, now I earned your attention. I am Isabela, 'Captain' Isabela. Forgive me if the title rings hollow since I did lose my ship awhile back.”

“I thought you said you were in Denerim before you left. Is the city rebuilding well? I heard the Alienage was hit the hardest during the attack.” Hawke tried to keep her questions casual. She tried her damnedest to keep calm about her father dying from the blight.

“No, you couldn't pay me all the Antivan brandy to fill the Waking Sea to stay during that mess. I was there before the battle and met the Hero of Fereldan with an associate of mine. She was a rather sassy little elven thing.” Hawke perked up at the mention of elven. “Bit of a stick in the mud though and a calm blocker if you asked me.”

“A what now?” Hawke was getting anxious with this little info.

“Well my associate was rather calm around her, speaking strictly to business and no play. She even managed to beat me at Wicked Grace in less than a turn despite being a cold little thing.” Isabela noticed Hawke being keenly interested before smirking. “You know, unlike her, you seem the kind to help me with exactly what I need.”

“For?” Hawke questioned getting her mind into business seeing as the other woman wasn't telling her anymore.

“You see I have this duel with a man named Castillion as the men from before were his messengers.”

Hawke reached deeper into her pockets knowing Aveline was going to need two ales.

  
  


An armed bloody figure slumped to the ground as Aveline rotated her shoulder from exertion. “Answer me this truthfully Hawke. Why did you take up this job, concerning this pirate, in front of the Viscounts' steps?” Aveline was wiping the blood off her blade from a thug's shirt as Hawke was going through their pockets.

“The same reason we do any of these jobs: Hire ourselves for muscle, Gather up money, save up to get out of Lowtown. And gain some info for future jobs.” A ring was sniffed by Lady before disappearing into Hawke's pocket. “Plus it just shows how oddly good we're getting at killing.”

“That's not something I would boast about to the captain of the guard Hawke. Red here might throw you over her knee for a spanking. I wouldn't be surprised if she did that to criminals who avoid her.”

Isabela chuckled at this looking over a note. “I do have to say some men would pay to be sassed and spanked by an overbearing woman. Especially those man hands of hers going in for a tight grip.”

“No one was talking to you slattern.” Aveline glared at the woman with annoyance. “Now if you'll excuse me it seems we taken care of your duel and will be on our way.”

“Actually that wasn't the duel. And Hayder wasn't among them.” Isabela sauntered over to Hawke ignoring Aveline's glare. “This note here says they were to take care of me while Hayder waited for them outside the Blooming Rose. Seems he had another potential partner to help him.”

Varric groaned at the information. “Great so we basically have to take care of this while Lusine bitches to us about scaring off her customers. Somehow I am thankful we took care of those gangs roaming around to make this walk better.”

The women nodded in agreement as they walked following Varric toward the brothel. It wasn't that far from the main square, however, they Hawke kept a watchful eye for any shadows in the alleys. Varric took notice of her gestures noting how her staff was still firm in her hands. The same could be said for Aveline still holding hers. They seemed ready for any fight that was going to jump up at them.

“Well now Hayder, you didn't tell me I get a special prize for helping you.” A familiar voiced purred out.

Varric felt the hairs on his chest on end, as he took in a standing the last person he needed, staring at them with cold eyes. He turned to Hawke noting how she was staring back, with the same animosity, with Lady bearing her teeth. He unbuckled Bianca keeping his eyes on the archers noting their stances.

“Well now Isabela I didn't think you had the balls to show up after all. Seems like quite the welcome party if you here to finish business.” Hayder walked forward like the braggart he was giving Isabela the once over. “You know I think Castillion would love to get his hands on you for misplacing his wares.”

“Shut up Hayder! Those were people not merchandise!” Isabella snarled taking a step forward.

“Easy now tiger. No need to get your stripes skinned off ya. My men got you surrounded five to two.”

“Actually, you mean my men,” Athenril walked forward twirling a dagger in her hand. “have the upper hand since we need the numbers. Especially if they have an ex-employee apostate fighting for them.”

“I would be on the payroll if you didn't decide to whore me out like a black out drunk.” Hawke snarled.

“Sorry sweetie, but it was only business. Crowds like that are a fickle bunch when they see a newcomer, who isn’t a native, win all those fights. If anything it seems the oldest business is always the most profitable.” Athenril looked over Hawke taking note of the anger in her eyes. “So what happens in the past is made up right now for a pound of your fle-”

Before she was able to finish Hawke sent out a pulse of energy sending everyone to crash into each other. Isabela took this as her cue throwing a knife into one of Hayder's men. After that the chaos began as Aveline charged into the fray slashing at whoever escaped the pull. Varric took aim of the archers pinning those that he could while dodging his fare share of blades. He was silent in thanking the Maker as Aveline took out who she could with the help of the pirate. She seemed more than capable holding herself in a fight slitting throats and parrying attacks like they were willow sticks.

Lady doing her best showing these Kirkwallers what a beast from Fereldan could do. She managed to rip our a few throats with Isabela while darting back to anyone who gone near Hawke, who was at the moment, casting like a madwoman. She started to edge closer towards Athenril who was having on par with Isabela, ignoring the last stragglers being taken care of by Varric and Lady. She could feel her heart pumping in her chest from the exertion of casting so many spells, but ignored the pain.

Aveline succeeded in beheading Hayder as the last one that stood with a weapon in her area. She took note of any damage to the area since some of the guardsmen at the Brothel, came barreling out with their armor hastily put on. She was about to give a lecture until she heard the sound of bone crunching under flesh. She turned around to see Hawke on top Athenril beating her like a beast.

“Hawke stop this at once!” Aveline bellowed walking towards the scene. “My men will take care of this cease your punishment.”

Her please fell on deaf ears as Hawke continued to pummel Athenril well past the point of decent revenge.

“I will charge you with murder if you continue to kill her.” That got Hawke's attention with a fist in mid air.

“Tell me you're fucking joking Aveline. If not then you might as well arrest Varric here for making artistic holes out of people's head.”

“I'm not Hawke, you should know that by now. My men will take Athenril into custody and question her.” Aveline waved her men who walked toward the straddled elf.

“Question her for what? Over bullshit for how she ruined my life? Or maybe you need her alive to pay for her crimes.” Hawke added another punch snagging a gold necklace on her sleeve.

“No, Hawke. If anything I let her be left with Lady for what I have in mind, but I can't. I need to do my job since is my last night I can join you.”

Hawke rubbed her face with the bloody hand trying to ignore her headache as Varric stepped in. “Listen Guard captain, I'll take my friend here, who was totally helping you in this duty, and get of your way. Everyone happy right?”

Aveline sighed as she gestured to two guards who picked up Athenril like a rag doll. They marched towards the Barracks as Hawke walked in the opposite direction with Lady trailing behind. This left Varric looking towards her with an agitated smile running up to Hawke, as Isabela looked on.

“I have to say Man hands you certainly know how to command a scene when it suits you.” A grimace was her only answer before sauntering off to join the others eying Hawke's backside with much gusto.

The couple of days were strained as Hawke avoided Hightown as much as she could without running into Aveline. Varric took notice of the woman's attitude noticing how she was a little too somber. With the addition of Isabela they barely survived some fights seeing as she wasn't one to take damage away from Hawke, who took up fighting on the front lines, which left them visiting Anders more often. The clinic was also a refuge for Hawke since she spent most of her time helping in cleaning out wounds and learning what she could from Anders, even though he occasionally irked her with his talk of Mage rights.

Still as much as the man was on his soapbox whenever the subject popped up, he was a great fourth to make up for firepower. This seemed to compliment them in Hawke's healing and Anders elemental powers. However, he was always poking the bear that was her place as an apostate. Varric on the other hand was keeping tabs where he could of their financial efforts seeing as they were close to beginning their trip. If anything they were just four fifths of the way to reaching the goal. It was getting antsy to think he could reach this, yet at the same time he was feeling worried.

He knew Hawke worked herself into a stupor, but the one thing he was concerned about was her squatting in Lowtown. He never could find out where she slept but it seems she was always on the move every night, so she wouldn’t get robbed or anything worse. Yet still no many how many hints he dropped about renting out a room she would avoid it. Despite the fight she had with Aveline, she was pretty much alone in Kirkwall and Varric wasn't about to let his future star wither away due.

It was one particular night she was bathing, again a courtesy Varric left for Hawke only, that Isabela sauntered in.

“You sure you don't need an extra set of hands to wash your back?” She eyed the water droplets cascading down Hawke's back. “I can assure you I always enjoy getting my fingers wet.”

Water splashed in the air, missing Isabela by mere inches, as Hawke wrinkled out her hair. “If I needed help I would of asked Lady. Mabaris are smart like that when they are asked of a task.”

“Really now? So can your puppy help you with an irresistible itch that needs a good scratch.”

Water sloshed as Hawke stood up wrapping a towel around her. “Woman you make even the simplest things sound dirty than they should.”

“Well if your not in the mood for wet fingers, how about a full body massage. I can show you how agile my fingers are in loosening all the muscles in you.”

“I'm sure that’s not all you plan to get loose.” Hawke mumbled walking behind the dressing blinds. “If your here to make jokes I'm sure there’s also another reason why you're here?”

Isabela took a seat on the table crossing her legs getting a good look at Hawke's silhouette. “Well I come bearing two spots of news for you. The first is that apparently there was a murder in the barracks with one of the criminals in their jail cell. Seems someone didn't want somebody ratting on the Coterie for a trial coming up.”

“Really now? Who was stupid enough to sell those rats out.”

“Well you might know her well since she was straddled in your hips. And not in the good way.”

Hawke pulled on her shirt not missing a beat or stopping upon here the news. Isabela could swear the woman was gloating. “Anything else that actually seems helpful?”

“Why yes, there is. It seems not only has Varric snagged us a request with this fine specimen of a chantry brother seeking revenge for his family, but he was also contacted by someone through Meeran for a job.”

“Really? Meeran is throwing me a job?” Hawke emerged with her pants half buttoned braiding her hair along her scalp. “He never really does that for anyone unless its something he can't touch or want to deal with.”

“Well that’s the thing sweetheart, he was vague on the details, but it seems someone wants us to steal something back tomorrow tonight. Seems the mans' name was Anso or something. Varric has all the details, but he's visiting Anders to coerce him into joining us.”

Hawke patted her hair, checking the braids in place, before grabbing her coat. “Alright so we got a job today exacting revenge and some shady deal tomorrow. Anything else?”

“No, nothing important.” Isabela watched Hawkes' behind, noting why all of that was hidden. “Nothing worth worrying over.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Leandra was out in the garden, reading a novel and basking in the dawn's glow as butterflies flitted about the flowers. Orana had set her usual tray of breakfast and letters next to her with a plate of fresh summer fruit. It was a wonderful early morning before the heat settled in for the day. It would also be lovely if she had company to join her outside, but with Bethany’s death she avoided sitting in the gazebo still coping with the loss.

Just like most things in life, death changed a person. For Leandra it only made her more fiercely aware of her social surroundings, both in Hightown and her connections with Lowtown.

Orana was halfway in the door when something caught her attention. She moved into a fearful curtsy at whoever entered from the foyer. As Orana greeted the newcomer, a sudden hush echoed through the empty room.

Leandra calmly sipped her tea, already knowing who it was at this hour. “Good morning, Carver. I trust you were tired of breakfast at The Gilded Rooster this time? It does get a little pricey after awhile.”

Silence filled the air until a pair of heels clacked on the marble floors outside. Orana hurried out of the way back to the kitchen not wanting to witness this fight. Carver lurched into the garden. He looked more haggard than usual.

“Morning to you as well mother. I was hoping not to run into you for another hour or two.”

“Yes, well I took it upon myself to rise up early before the heat became too stifling for errands. Maker knows I worry sending Orana in my place.” She flipped a page with one hand while patting the seat next to her. Carver slowly obliged sitting down, but further away. “Yet, no matter how many times I tell her, she still goes out risking her health. Sometimes I wonder how she manages to deal with this heat. Or maybe it's a simple trick one picks up from Tevinter.”

Carver merely grunted in response. Leandra took note that he held no sign of sleep deprivation or surviving a rough night, since he had neither bruises or gaunt eyes. He looked only mentally tired - likely from a romp with his usual mistress. Leandra chuckled at the mere thought of a brothel worker as a proper mistress. She nibbled on a piece of fruit to combat the thought. Carver, likewise, snatched a sausage off her plate.

“My, my,” Leandra raised an eyebrow. “Such manners.”

Carver groaned before swallowing. “Please, mother I had a very trying night and I'm not in the mood for a lecture.”

“Could have fooled me. If you were really tired, you would still be in bed with whatever alleycat you found, or in your room hidden under the covers.”

“I don't just sleep with any alleycat mother. I visit the lovely ladies at the Rose. Good enough for father, good enough for me.” Carver searched his mother’s face for a reaction of some sort only to see her unphased by the sardonic remark.

“I hope you wont father any bastards who will spring up with their mothers, uninvited and with open hands. No, I expect you to have more common sense than your father. I hope you at least treat them with dignity..”

Carver winced in disdain at the idea of being associated with Guillaume. “Mother that was in complete awful taste, but I did deserve it for being a right twat.”

“I never say anything I don't mean, and I say it out of love.” Leandra washed down her cooled tea, relaxing in the breeze. “I'll hold my fangs back just for you, since you're still mourning.”

“I’m not mourning, I'm just tired from trying to persuade some investors to join me in a personal project. I doubt it will end up working anyhow since my potential business partner is likely throwing me under the charging carriage.”

The soft rustle of pages slapping against another signaled Orana to take the tray away. “Carver I have no idea why you would waste time on such a fruitless venture with Bartrand of all people. I mean there are other more worthwhile enterprises. There's the Ledgers internship with the Seneschal, the Gilded Hummingbird is also going to expand out in Cumberland and seeking a junior partner to overlook their profits.”

Carver groaned. “Mother, those are all worthless jobs! I have no interest in them. I’d prefer trying to work with Bartrand, but it seems I have failed in that.”

“Carver if you failed in acquiring a proper job on your own, then perhaps you shouldn't be so choosy.”

He looked about the garden, focusing his gaze on the gazebo, now bare of its blooming flowers. “Because it's my choice. It's like you said earlier, I'm still mourning over Bethy's death, but I'm doing it in a way that shows I have some control in the matter.” He stared hard at the withered vines.”Sort of like how her favorite place in the garden hasn't been torn down. No matter how many times I asked you to tear it down you still leave it there as an ugly scar.”

“It's my way of remembering her, so the pain lessens over time.” Leandra stood up smoothing out her dress. “But just because I keep it doesn't mean I'll stay in the past. I need to look forward and get on with my life. Now I have business to attend with one of the merchants for his trip.”

“How do you do it, Mother?”

“Pardon?”

Carver hunched placing his arms over his knees. “How you do just go about your day when all this shit has happened? What’s your secret?”

Leandra gave a tired smile as her fingers gently scraped his head. Carver leaned into the touch, relaxing a bit. “I don't have any secrets, silly boy. I just put one foot in front of the other and think about what must be done.” She kissed the top of his head. “Do get some sleep, and perhaps think rather hard about what you want, since I won't always be there for you.”

With her words spoken Leandra walked toward the door preparing herself for work. Carver stayed in the garden, staring at the gazebo with veiled hatred and letting the day pass by him. His brain demanded sleep. That would surely help his thinking process.

Standing up on stiff legs which felt like stone, he ambled into the manor, caring not for Orana's concern or the other servants milling about. He focused only on his bed which was just out of his grasp. After what felt like an eternity, he finally made it to his room slamming the door behind him. A pair of perked ears stood up in surprise on his mattress.

Alden stared up at his owner, meowing for some confirmation that everything was ok. Carver - as usual - scooped the cat in his arms and dropped it on his desk. With exhausted effort he managed to pull off his boots and coat before falling into the bed like a boneless mess. Alden took the initiative to crawl back, settling himself atop Carver's broad chest.

Carver rubbed his hand over the cat’s soft fur. It was strange to take comfort in such a small creature when it was supposed to be he who provided the safety. The word itself made him feel angry that his home was not safe. Not when he trusted most needed it.  He wondered what would have happened if he was home that night. Perhaps he could have saved her, giving her enough time to escape before the guards came, or perhaps she could have used her magic to save herself.

Bile rose in Carver’s throat. Bethany's life would have crumbled if he didn't keep her magic a secret. He always knew that if she was gone he would feel incomplete. Bethany, on the other hand, was happiest using her magic to conjure a flame to read at night or to ice her drinks in the summer heat. This made him wonder: would she have been happier in the Circle, where she didn’t have to hide her magic?

* * *

 

Leandra wasn't one for petty arguments over asinine things, but for a moment she envied the Dwarves and their shrewd manners when it came to verbal abuse.“And I am telling you, this is an atrocious use of protection isn't worth the price I am paying for it!”

“Please, good Serah, I am certain that this is the normal price for passage to Cumberland.”

“I have wares in Val Chevin that need my supervision to reach Cumberland!”

Leandra slowly counted in her head. “Yes, I can understand that, however, for something like that you would need to contact my associate and reserve months ahead. We are providing you with quality protection and service.”

The merchant only puffed up his lips in indignation. “Madam, I don’t care if it includes templars to root out blood mages on the way. I have a schedule to run that requires me to pick up my wares and continue without trouble. It's bad enough that I’m stuck here with a woman who doesn't know what she's doing.”

Leandra felt it was time to put aside the smile and let loose the teeth. “Sir! I do not take that sort of tone with customers, even if they claim to know my trade better than me! It would be best for you to look over the price, or perhaps find someone else as good as my business.”

“Well, maybe if you weren't such a shrewd hag I would be talking to your husband instead of dealing with this poor attempt at haggling. I am not surprised he left you.” His smug smile was sure to earn him some points with the other merchants, yet they were looking away from the fury in Leandra's eyes.

“Now see here, you goat-riddled pen-” Before she could let loose all she wanted to say a gauntleted hand reach up onto her shoulder. As she turned toward the intruding hand, she found herself greeted by some guardsmen.

“Excuse us for disturbing you today, but we need you to come with us, Lady Amell.”

“Well can it wait for a moment? I am trying to talk with a customer.”

“I'm afraid it will have to wait. This is a serious issue we have to address.”

She decided it was better to talk with the guardsmen and lose the potential client, who was nothing but a pain. She walked with the men towards a more secluded corner of the market. They reached an iron fence overlooking the harbor with the Gallows in view. The guards settled into a casual stance, feet apart as Leandra stared rather nervously.

“I hope this isn't about Carver doing anything unseemly last night. If he has, I will pay the fines and let him stew in a cell to learn the error of his ways.”

One of the guards smiled. “I can assure you, Lady Amell your son hasn't done anything unseemly. No, we're here on the orders of Guard-Captain Vallen. One of your men was murdered.” Leandra gasped at the guardsmen, going over in her head who might have been on duty at the time. “We have his body in the morgue.  He’s been frozen for further inspection of his wounds, with the aid of the Gallows mages. However we can safely say he was also involved in the assassination of an esteem crime boss. Since the Barracks is on temporary lockdown denying a proper identification of the body, we were hoping that you could identify this object we found on him.”

“I will help in any way possible, if it means finding the killer.” Leandra gripped her dress.

The guardsmen nodded holding out a linen-wrapped object in his hands. Opening up the cloth revealed a chantry pendant with notches all over it. Leandra felt the most saddest feeling overcome her as she looked.

“Yes, I've seen that pendant before. It belonged to one of my long travel guards, named Douglas. I remember him always going to the Chantry to say his prayers for a safe journey. I used to think it so silly of him, praying for the safety of the merchants like a giant gentle bear.”

“Can you describe his appearance?” The other guard pulled out a notebook from his satchel.

“Yes. He is about near six feet in height with pale skin and he keeps an impeccably trimmed beard. His eyes were rather greyish and he had calloused hands...I'm sorry I'm still taking this all in since he was one of my more positive workers. I never knew him to cheat someone out of a game of cards or hurt a fly. He was the role model of what an escort could be.”

“I can understand that this is a lot to take in, but he was also involved in some shady dealings with the Carta. It seems like one of the deals went downhill.”

“Downhill? I know every man in my service! They go through rigorous training and simple tests to ensure good service.”

“That's what Meeran told us, as well. We asked him for identification and he practically told us the same thing you said. Everyone has secrets. We found lyrium dust on his person.” Leandra's eyes widened in shock. “We believe he was an addict since there were traces of the powder in his nose. We received top confirmation from the Gallows. Former templars would inhale the substance when they were cut off or rejected from the order.”

“But if he was a templar it would have been years ago, since he was in active duty. The man wasn't a day over forty-three and practiced like an army recruit.”

“Hence why we think he was reintroduced to the dust. It doesn't take long for the effects to take place, but for a man to constantly fight and suddenly have access - it’s like a drunk in a wine cellar. However, you did help us answer a few questions that helped us in our investigation. We'll keep in touch later for any additional information we might need.”

“Of course! It doesn't do my business good when my clients can’t trust the men I assign. Dirty Carta! Why can't they just act like the Merchants Guild and try to con an orphanage out of its gold?”

One of the guards snickered at the thought, while the other forced himself to not smile. “No worries, milady. We'll be sure to keep in contact. Do have a pleasant day. Also, the information we told you about the lyrium dust, it needs to stay discreet. We wouldn't tell you unless it was necessary,  as the Carta are on the move. Please stay safe, milady.”

“Indeed I shall! My lips are forever sealed on the matter. I think a early lunch will soothe my nerves.” Leandra curtsied at the men before walking off hastily.

The guardsmen took this time to go over their notes. Leandra was honest in her testimony. She quickly disappeared into the arguing Hightown crowd.

She walked a good distance into the crowd, losing herself in thought over what transpired. She kept thinking about what the guardsmen said, about how such a hard worker could relapse from the drug that chained him to the chantry. Then again, Leandra knew the man was never best at hiding all his personal vices. Stepping into her mansion she wa greeted by Orana welcoming her back.

“Orana dear, I am going to let myself have an hour to myself for some ‘me time’. Take note that I will be downstairs, eating cheese and drinking Aggregio. Just don't let the chef know. He does like to harp on about me keeping my figure.”

Orana nodded with a smile as her mistress took her leave. With the new door installed, the locking mechanism was too sturdy for even an expert thief to get into without setting off the alarm. Walking down the stairs and into the wine room she saw several armed men and one bound to a chair. Meeran was wiping his bloody fists on the limp man in the chair.

“I take it the guard came by to question you?” He walked over to cabinet door filled with wines on racks.

“Yes and I told them that Douglas was the epitome of a saint, attending to his job and never straying from the path. The Aggregio from the Blessed Age seems more your taste.”

Meeran pulled out the suggested bottle, looking it over. “Well seems like your choice of drink is like our esteemed guest here. It doesn't matter if it tastes like the Maker's golden piss or comes from the fountain of youth, ‘cause at it's core, it's all shows us how buggered we really are.”

Leandra looked over to the bloodied man as he took a ragged breath. He was tied to the chair with both hands horribly mangled. The tangy smell of copper mingled with the smell of grapes and pears as Meeran uncorked the bottle with his knife.

“Giving a dead man his last meal? I never thought you were so hospitable, Meeran.” the man asked in a cracked voice, calmed from his beating.

Leandra strolled over to him gently tilting his bruised head to look her in the eye. “Hush now, we are only being perfect hosts to our guest. I’ll bet you two gentlemen talked the most riveting things in my absence!” A gob of bloodied spit somehow managed to land on her brow. Meeran fists came down on the man’s shoulders as Leandra calmly wiped at her brow. “It seems you have, judging by your behavior. I will have to make a surprise visit with that Darktown healer. Maker knows what I might have contracted.”

“Makers balls, Leandra! Most noble women would have slapped the man for the impudence and shriek about his dirt being all over them.” Meeran took a swig from the bottle.

“Unlike most of the women who reside here,” she took the bottle from Meeran, taking a dainty sip. “I've had worse land on my face. Thanks to Guilliame. When he wasn't talking with his mouth full he loved to spit the culmination of our love-making on my face. From what I hear of the Rose, most men seem to love doing that. It just becomes tiresome when I have to wash my hair.”

The guards tried to hold in their laughter as Meeran let out a bark. Their guest coughed as blood began to fill his lungs. “I wasn't surprised by that, Leandra. Now I know who inherited your mouth.”

Silence filled the room. Leandra slowly turned her head toward him. “Who inherited my mouth?”

“Ohhh, she had a rather gifted tongue alright. I always said a mouth is a mouth, no matter who it belongs to, but by Andraste's pert nipples, the girl could suck. I was never so turned on with her eyes looking up at me while Douglas was thrusting behind like an animal in heat. You think we saved a lot of money if we rented her-”

Before he could get out another word Leandra bashed the bottle across his face. Meeran ran to restrain the woman, who - with the fury of a jungle cat - repeatedly jabbed and punched her victim. The other men looked on with surprise as the normally mild mannered woman began attacking like a badger.

“Take note, you two.” Meeran gained their attention. “As your captain, I am to keep you in order. However, Leandra here is also your boss, and she decides which jobs to give and how to reward us.” They heard a sickening crack, and then Leandra threw the bottle on the ground, gasping for air. “As you just witnessed, Owen here just learned the hard way why you always follow your fucking orders.”

The bottle was half emptied as a small trickle of wine flowed out. Leandra picked it back up, draining the contents in one gulp before looking back at the men with a graceful smile. “Are we crystal, on how the rules are set, boy?”

“Clear, milady.” they both saluted letting the lesson sink in.

“Good, perhaps you can wash up all this blood since you’re near the drain. I'm going to go freshen up for dinner since I've gotten wine all over my skirts.”

“If anyone asks, you accidentally killed a rat out of terror for touching the cheese.” Meeran grunted handing the two men lyrium potions, as they began casting fire and ice to clean up.

“Hmm, that does sound like a rather plausible explanation. Good day, gentlemen.” With quick curtsy she hurried up the stairs putting on a frantic face. “Orana dear, please draw me a bath. It seems I ran into some bad luck.”

The men ignored her ranting as they continued their work on the floor. They both worked together making sure the blood flowed into the grate, then wiped the floor clean of any residue. Meeran occasionally glanced over at them while wrapping up the corpse. It wasn't until he was untying poor Owen that one of the men spoke up.

“Sir, I need to ask; was this woman he was talking about? Was it the poor Amell lass that died awhile back?”

“Nah, if it were we’d be fighting a bloody war by now.” Meeran began tying up knots tightly. “No, girly was someone I was suppose to keep safe and help train away from the templars. It's my fault, if anything. I let this idiot and his friend take advantage of her position.”

“That woman wouldn't happen to be Hawke, would it? The one who helped us out awhile back on that trip to Tantervale?”

Meeran bent his knees hefting the corpse over his shoulders as the others finished cleaning up. “Now, now boys we're on the clock, so eyes on the prize. If you want any news concerning that, best you go to the Hanged Man. Think a gabby Dwarf can give you all the tall tales you want.”

* * *

A/n: Yeaah I am very sorry for how long this is taking me, but depression, therapy and pills  oh my....really draining my ability to focus on one thing at a time. Other than that I hope if anyone is still interested in this story they will review, not for any fanpoints to make me popular, but for how am I progressing along with the story and if its going well.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a formal update due to classes and stress.

This isnt a new chapter but more of an update...I may put this story on hiatus since I have the worse luck in losing betas. So until I can get another reliable beta...this story and the other might never be finished.

Just when I was ready to have fenris show up...

Sorry for anyone who actually liked reading this.


	14. Chapter 14

The sound of creaking wood echoed in the alley as the moon rose higher. Rats scurried in a packs after a hopeless tomcat who wandered into their territory and the smell of stale ale permeated the air. It was thankfully cooler tonight, allowing everyone to relax after the latest heatwave in Kirkwall, but not everyone was thankful for the respite.

Anso sat on a crate rubbing his hands together anxiously while looking at the ground like a sullen child. There was safety in the ground. It brought to mind the vast tunnels of Orzammar, heated all year long by the magma flowing beneath them, and the ever present scent of iron ore and lyrium sparks. He even missed his mother's prattle about keeping up a good image for the family and their house. What Anso wouldn't give to have his mother appear in front of him, berate him like some common duster, and pull him back to Orzammar. At least there he could feel sane, and be somewhat safe, if he fell in line like the other merchants. Sadly, Kirkwall was no welcoming place to call home for a dwarf like him.

Here the streets were filled to the brim with humans that dealt in various occupations and most possessed a distinct uneasiness, bordering on distrust, of all things magical, particularly mages. Anso tried asking about that once, but that earned him nothing more than an earful and three hours of his life wasted to a Chantry lecture. He wished he was back Orzammar; surrounded by the stone and not gawked by the tall people who looked at him funny. People who treated him like an imbecile every time he jolted from a flock of pigeons fluttering near him.

At least dealing with the humans was safer than dealing with the dwarves from the Carta. Casteless men and women, staring at him with their faces marked since birth. They could easily swallow poor Anso whole, akin to a nug hunted by those venomous little things. Those tiny creatures that looked like the surface birds, but featherless and spewing noxious venom.

A curse went off in his head as he realized he couldn't remember their blasted name if his life depended on it. Only a couple months topside and Anso wasalready forgetting the small things about living in Orzammar. Next thing he knew he would forgot what his mother looked like, though she would kill him for thinking such a thing, or all the Paragons he grew up learning. Surely this night couldn't get any worse than his memory.

“Are you Anso? I was told to contact you for furth-.”

“Ahhh, sweet mother of Partha! You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that.” For a moment Anso was glad his memory wasn't flailing him entirely as he eyed the woman with the impossibly large and furry four legged beast standing at her side. “Are you the one looking for work? You seem rather tall to be Varric.”

A deep chuckle from behind the tall woman, caught his attention, as a rather scandalous dwarf emerged. “I have to say it's not everyday I get confused for a pair of sexy legs, but that would insult Bianca.”

“Oh, I think Bianca would like the change of pace from a new perspective.” An eager purr from the barely dressed woman with them caught Anso's attention.

“Isabela. Please.” It seemed this woman with the beast was in charge, or at least trying to keep them inline.Looking down at Anso, “Just tell us what you want done and if its worth the trouble.”

Anso runghis hands together out of nervous habit. “Yes, of course. I tend to rabble like a lyrium dealer, which I'm not, when I'm nervous. Especially when I think I might fall into that open sky of yours. Haven't been up here long, but it still scares me worse than darkspawn.” Varric laughed at the description of the feeling common to most dwarves upon coming topsideas Isabela commented on how funny it was. “Yes, well, aside from that I need help. Really, really bad. I had a personal shipment coming in and my product...was misplaced.”

“Stolen because your porter wanted a cut, you mean.” The beast lady interrupted rather curtly as her beast nuzzled her hip.

“Hawke it's not just stolen when working in this business. It could be misplaced, mistake for another parcel, delayed due to weather, or maybe still under inspection.” Varric commented, pouring on the charm.

“Did I even mention the words steal or stolen? Besides the men seemed like reasonable smugglers with smiles and everything. It seemed legit. I just don't want the Templars to become irate if their product was...misplaced.”

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose as she looked at Anso with a death glare. “You want us to smuggle in lyrium for the piss-pot Templars, after it was stolen in front of your nose?”

Varric whistled when he went over the figures in his head. “Maker's breathe, between the Chantry, Carta and the Coterie;you picked a hell of an occupation to start up-top.”

“By the Paragons not so loud!”

“I'll be as loud as cats howling in heat if I have a say in this.”Hawke's sighed at the dwarf.

“You would probably make the most delectable purrs. Or would that be howls, seeing as you have wolfy here guarding you.” Hawke inhaled deeply focusing on ignoring the pirate's comment. “Or better yet, we could make a pretty penny if this dwarf is willing to cut us in on the deal.”

Isabela's last comment only angered Hawke further, finally causing her to stomp off in the opposite direction, her mabari trailing after her. Varric chose at that moment to use his short legs to run after her. “Hawke! Wait!”She stopped as he caught up to her, speaking in harsh whispers. Lady remained alert twitching, her tail, as Isabela looked over her knives out of boredom.

Anso became a little more jittery as Hawke became slightly more agitated. He could feel the seconds tick by as if they were hours until the woman, who was suddenly in front of him, thrust out her hand. Anso shrieked and shrunk back thinking he was about to be attacked, but no pain came. Peeking from behind his hands, he saw an open palm ready to shake on it.

“We have a deal so long as you don't let your clients know it was us.” Hawke's hand were covered in Anso's two eager fists shaking with glee and reli.

“Oh by the stone, thank you! I can assure you, I will pay you handsomely. The smugglers do business around here. They work out of an abandon hovel in the Alienageand should be there tonight.”

Hawke held up her hand, signaling that the conversation was over and heading up the stairs that would lead them to the Alienage. Isabela sauntered behind her, looking far too interested in the woman's backside, as Varric gave a shrug. “I'm terribly sorry for my partner's lack of manners, but they tend to grow them like that in Fereldan.”

“She seems more reasonable than the men who took my merchandise. At least she didn't threaten to thrust a fist in my chest and pull out my heart.”

“Shameful. The Merchants guild does that to Bartrand on a regular basis, but they buy him dinner and offer promises of profit first.” He strolled after his companions, leaving Anso bewildered but smiling.

The trip to the Alienage wasn't much of a long walk if a person didn't mind that it was located in the lowest point of Lowtown and even further in distance to reach from the Docks and Hightown, let alone Darktown. The Alienage was almost a favorite hub with the elves crammed into those tiny houses that could barely hold a family of three. Still, no matter how little the space or dysentery infested the water, Kirkwall imposed a curfew on the Alienage unless you worked the night shift.

Hawke could feel the scowl forming on her face a manifestation of a new anger at these conditions. She was a long way from Denerim but even the Alienage there seemed more pleasant when you considered that they had houses for respectably sized family unit. However, in Kirkwall it seemed as if the elves were packed in like animals waiting for the slaughter.

“Hawke, you okay there sweet thing? You seemed lost at sea for a moment. Anything interesting you'd like to share?” Isabela moved from the shadows eying the area.

“Nothing so far. Everyone is inside for curfew and not one door has opened even a bit for a peek outside.”

“Really now? Even a lookout has to be alert for any signs of a trouble on the horizon. Unless of course they are inside waiting for us.” Hawke grunted at the remark pulling out a dagger. “Ah,the lovely magical murder-dagger has made an appearance; you smell a trap as well. Glad to know I wasn't the only one to gather that from the conversation with Anso.”

“Oh, please. Anso couldn't move a merchant's meeting into a bloodbath if someone built a swimming hole filled with nug blood.” Varric sauntered up with Bianca in his arms. “Ladies first, so the arrows wont be aimed at me.”

Isabella laughed at the remark, dashing into the hovel as Hawke began casting. After several minutes of combat in excessively tight quarters that required just as much dodging as hitting; Hawke found herself thankful that her lessons with Anders were improving her skills , but she was starting to wish she could ask him on along on these ventures. Although there weren't that many opponents, it was oddly refreshing to finally clear the hovel, reach the chest and check it's contents.

“Nothing.” Varric groaned slamming down the top. “I swear I will wring my fingers around the neck of whoever set this up for us.”

“Technically, that would be Meeran since he was the first to hear of this job.” Hawke mumbled scratching Lady's ear with a somber grin. “Or, you could punish yourself; since you're the idiot to blame for us taking this job.”

“I wouldn't mind watching this punishment take place since Varric has those big, powerful hands to wrap around things.” Isabela crooned at the image forming in her mind; secretly, or possibly not so secretly, getting aroused at the thought. She opened the door outside only to find the equivalent of an armada of waiting for them. “Shit. I vote we really blame Meeran for this.” Hawke didn't bother to respond and simply cast a force spell to whittle down the mercenaries.

“Remember, if we kill them we get their stuff!” Isabela shouted as she ran out the door to launch herself into the foray followed by Hawke, Lady and Varric. The four made an effective team and the square was clear of all enemies in a few minutes.

Isabela immediately proceeded to loot the bodies for any valuables with Hawke in tow . Varric was moving amongst the bodies, trying to salvage what bolts he could. It was during the clean up that another armed hunter came rushing down the stairs, completely red faced and enraged.

“I don't know who you peasants are, but you picked the wrong company to cross. Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing now!” Silence filled the air then the sound of armor clanking and a gurgling as the lieutenant stumbled into view leaving a trail of blood behind him like a river.The man barely gurgled out his last breath before falling like a stone.

“Your men are dead.” A deep voice rang out catching everyone's attention. A shadowy figure, clad in black armor, walked calmly down the stairs with a rather large sword in hand. “And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can.”

“I am going no where slave.” Those were the man's last words as the mysterious man's hand lit up a moment before he shoved it through the chest armor of the slaver. It was surreal until the wet squelching sound of something normally internal hit the ground.

“I am not a slave.” The mystery man turned around to face them stepping into the moonlight. It surprised Hawke to see that he was an elf with the most shockingly white hair and strange tribal tattoos. What was even stranger was the fact he had a giant bastard sword on his back when he killed the other man with his magical gift.

“I apologize. When I commissioned Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea that they'd be so...plentiful.” The deep voice emitted from him caught Hawke's attention before he looked over at Varric. “If I had known they would of given you this trouble I would have made other arrangements. I apologize.”

This slightly pissed Hawke off moving forward to take over the talk. “Ifs and woulds are pleasant enough, thankfully we managed to eliminate them without suffering any causalities.” Hawke looked him in the eye letting business settle into her mind. “I take it you were the one with whom this task originated?”

The elf nodded before kneeling down to pilfer through the heartless hunter's pockets. “Yes, it seems my old master has sent mercenaries to track me down and bring me back to him. It hadn't surprised me since I knew they were on my trail , however I seemed to have under estimated their numbers.” He looked over a piece of paper that caught his attention.

“I would be insulted at the thought of being your cannon fodder, but I feel better knowing you are upfront about.” Hawke crossed her arms overlooking the corpses taking a closer look at their armor.

“Hawke here is quite forgiving, but I, however, tend to take things a little personally unless I am given the pay I am due. In your case, I would be willing to come to an alternative arrangement guaranteed to satisfy all parties.” Isabela purred at the elf with a wink while slowly rubbing her thighs together.

“Careful Rivaini, he might be a real lady killer if he takes your offer.” Varric chuckled patting Bianca.

“Oh, it's not like he'd be the first man to rough me up. Not unless he likes to play it rough and hard.”

Hawke coughed rather loudly catching their attention as she shook her head at their banter . “If you two are done , I think we are still on the clock tonight. We should be introduced before going into any further negotiations.”

“Ah yes, forgive me for my earlier rudeness.” The elf focused on Hawke seeming a bit more calm. “My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself.”

Varric let out a low whistle as Isabela raised an eyebrow. “Imperial bounty hunters are a dime a dozen, but if they are here that only means Castillon might of dealt with them.”

“Unfortunately I have no idea who, or what, this Castillon person is. However, they were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely.” Fenris looked around surveying the damage with a frown on his face. “ If I may ask: What was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?”

Varric held up his hands in a standoffish manner. “Frankly it had nothing inside, making the chest with more value for hiding a few body parts. Granted, getting rid of this mess won't be easy.”

Lady perked her ears up in the air listening for something. With a slight nudge to Hawke's hands it ran towards an alley wagging it's tail in anticipation. Hawke took the sign looking toward Fenris with a stern look. “I'm afraid to cut this short but i we need to leave. Someone alerted the guard and I don't think I can explain to Aveline why a bunch of hired hunters from Tevinter are dirtying the street. Split up.”

“Wait, I have further need of your assistance!” Fenris looked at them with a heated gaze as the sound of a whistle blowing in the distance. “Look, I know you have questions, but I must confront the man that sent the hunters before he flees and I cannot do so on my own.”

“Perhaps this chat would be better done elsewhere. You know, not here.” Varric gestured towards the stairs and back to Hawke who was heading towards the alley.

“Agreed. We need to proceed to the Noble's quarter since he is hiding there like the rat he is.” Fenris growled at the thought marching ahead only to be stopped by Hawke.

“Then we had best follow Lady. She knows all the routes to reach Hightown. We can talk on the way.”

“Like whats got tall and lanky in such a dark mood. I'm sure you aren't going to start a conversation with that sword of yours.” Isabela was busy eying said tool letting the double meaning hang in the air. She still managed to keep staring while avoiding striping up a flight of stairs.

“Danarius, the bastard, wants to strip the flesh from my bones, he has sent so many hunters after me that I have lost count.” Fenris spat with a edge of subdued anger as they reached the larger stairwell to Hightown. “And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom. So yes, I plan to do more than just talk. I can lead us to where he was staying.”

Hawke bristled at the image not only of the man in chains, but the idea of being led like a pet by Qunari standards. She had never seen their magesroaming about the port, but from what she heard they were scarcely a step up from being a Tranquil in the Gallows. She left Isabela and Varric to weasel out any additional information from Fenris while she took up the rear with Lady by her side. Getting to HighTown was easier tonight as not only were the gangs absent, but the incident in the Alienage had garnered the attention of most of the guards in the area. Hawke felt guilty at the families being disturbed by the noise of their passing , but they were on a time limit to catch this Danarius off guard. After crossing the Hightown merchant's square and walking up the stairs that led them to near the Chantry, they walked up another flight in front of a mansion that emitted an eerie and malevolent presence.

Fenris stopped to look over the building before turning back to the group. “It is most likely that no one else has left the mansion after the main detachment was sent. There will be more hunters here.”

“How you so sure elf? Seems like a decrepit place to me.” Varric gave the door a once over tutting at its locks. “Besides nothing to worry over about a Magister being all lonely. Sure he has some demons to keep him company.”

“If he were in Tevinter it would be yet another night of pleasure for a powerful man with no conscience. But here he is in a city where he would most likely made tranquil by the Templars for indulging in his preferred form of entertainment. He will have more guards with him. As cannon fodder if nothing else..” Fenris growled out feeling antsy.

Hawke shivered again at the casual tone he spewed his hatred at the man before pulling out her dagger. “We shouldn't wait any longer than need be.”

“Yes, let us go.” Fenris seemed elated as they quietly entered through the servant's entrance for their attack. However, someone else had certain other ideas. “Danarius! Come out and face me!”

At that moment it became clear that stealth was no longer a concern for the elf as shades erupted from the floor as they made their way through the derelict mansion. Hawke cursed up a storm while putting her dagger away and letting loose her magic. Gravity began to fluctuate around their foes making it easier for Lady tackle the abominations that sprouted from the floor. Varric hummed a special melody, whenever battle became a frenzy letting loose, exploding bolts on the shades. Isabela was having a grand time testing her blades on demons laughing about how they were still fighting with a missing limb. It was Fenris who surprised her the most, by wielding his weapon with such great ease. Demons fell before him like leaves from a tree as he glowingly dashed from one enemy to the next, like a vengeful ghost. He was disturbingly calm as he killed, seemingly not bothered by the ichor coating him

As the last demon fell the group caught their breathes and surveyed the damage done to the mansion. Hawke went into her usual routine of checking on wounds as Fenris slipped outside. She raised an eyebrow while Varric grimaced about theirpotential coin purse running away. It was minutes later when they exited that they found Fenris leaning against the stone columns near the front door.

“I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it haunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul.” He turned to face them, eying Hawke especially. “And now I find myself in the company of even more mages.”

“Well now Broody, Hawke doesn't wear the robes or hold a staff that screams 'magic'. Last I checked she was doing hand gestures to confuse the enemy. Weren't you sparkles?”

“I saw her casting spells inside.” Turning to Hawke, “I should of realized sooner what you really were. A viper harbored in their midst who will attack when it is least expected. It's in the nature of all mages.”

Hawke felt like pinching her nose at the remark and opened her mouth to speak. Isabela cut in to speak her mind. “Hey now, Handsome isn't just some viper waiting to strike. She's our little prude and manly dressed mage that heals me up for another night on the town.” Hawke felt a small urge to deck Isabela.

“I'm not blind that magic has its uses outside blood magic. Nor to the idea that some mages have good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others.”

“I'm sure Anders would revel in this discussion more than me.” Hawke groaned applying a healing tingle along her spine.

Fenris grimaced a bit as the venom in his eyes slowly abated. “I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a handful of coins. “Even though I did not find Danarius, I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised.”

Varric had his hands extended out in acceptance, until Hawke reached out first. She grabbed Fenris hands, counting the money, before slowly pushing it back to him. “Keep it and buy some supplies for yourself. I don't feel right taking money from a man with nothing else.”

“If you won't take his coin, sweet thing, I have no objection to taking it off his hands.” The pirate gave a quick glance down well past his hands.

Fenris looked slightly uneasy as he forced the money back at Hawke. “I can't accept this. I refuse to owe a mage a debt, let alone, feel pity for me because of my situation.”

“Just think of it more as a fellow in the same boat as you, working for free.” Hawke sighed stepping back.

“I don't think we are in the position to be working Pro Bono with our deadline Hawke.” Varric muttered while patting Bianca.

“I wouldn't mind working a little Bono for a bit of elven charity.” Isabela eyes drooped to a sultry stare.

“Wench, keep it in your pants until we part ways. I can understand if you find him handsome, but we're working.” A chuckle emitted from the elf, in a tone unused to such words. Hawke caught a hint of blush on the tips of his ears before looking back. “Sorry, I tend to get flippant when I'm tired. If you won't accept my warped sense of generosity perhaps you can pay me back with your skill? I'm running an expedition and could use all the help I can get since we are short a sword arm. However, if-”

“Fair enough.” She was caught by surprise at how easily he agreed to the idea. “I will be residing here in Danarius' mansion should you have need of me. Should he want it back, he is free to return and claim it.”

“That seems like a horrible plan should he ever come. I mean that house had so many holes inside it, twenty men could easily storm it and overwhelm you.” Isabela and Varric were smirking at the thought holding in their laughter. “That's not what I meant and I am too tired to deal with your dirty minds any longer tonight. Go away you two.”

Varric stopped his antics looking at Hawke. “You sure about that? I can walk you home, back to your wonderful apartment.”

Hawke shifted her eyes for a bit leaning towards Lady. “I'm good. Just gonna walk Lady to mark her usual places and I'll head back.”

Varric eyed the woman carefully before letting out a sigh. “Alright, I know an argument I can't win when I see one. See ya in the morning, Hawke.”

“Aye, night.” She replied as the dwarf and pirate walked down the stairs back to the Hanged Man. Hawke watched them leave, smoothing out her pants wearily. Looking up into the pair of green eyes that stared at her. “I take it you have more to say?”

“You seemed to put your friends at ease with that misdirection. You clearly do not have a hovel to return to that requires the presence of another.” He narrows his eyes. “What manner of mage are you to hide such a thing?”

Hawke leaned on the wall letting her bravado fade. “In all honesty a mage who is desperately trying to get by in life, but can't because all I can do is heal wounds or move objects. Not really a bread winning or safe job when others can turn you in for a fair amount ofgold.”

“Why not use your skills with the mercenary guilds here? I'm sure they would agree to keep a mage safe in exchange for healing.” A bark of laughter erupted from her leaving Fenris confused. “I take it you find the idea of working like a common man funny?”

“No, not really. It's just I tried that route and someone wanted more than just my healing in exchange.” Her eyes went blank as memories of her 'training' flashed. “Lets just say I be happier working on a farm digging shit, then work for mercenaries again.”

They stayed still like that, looking at one another in the courtyard. Fenris eying the woman with all the grace one would expect of a paranoid slave, while Hawke looked like she would break from the demons of her past. Lady made a small whuffing noise and licked her hands to change the mood. With a small sad smile Hawke moved her hands to slowly rub on Lady's ears.

“Sorry for letting my own problems come out. Compared to yours they seem small and I shouldn't complain. I'll see you tomorrow at the Hanged Man.”

“You can stay here.” Fenris moved towards the entrance to the mansion letting his markings flash as he opened the door. “I meant, you can stay here for the night until you find yourself proper quarters.”

“Didn't you mention earlier how I was a viper ready to strike out if given the chance?”

“I did, but I figure if more slavers were to come, an angry half-trained mage would be a good surprise to have waiting for them. Granted I still don't trust you and I am highly wary.”

“Good, I was hoping to earn your trust before we left on the expedition. Not like I can do that over night.” Fenris nodded leading her back through the mansion with Lady trotting behind them. Hawke followed Fenris up the flight of stairs, ignoring the smell of Rage demon ashes. “Although if you're up for it I could earn it during some training since I'm more accustomed to hand to hand combat than magic.”

“We shall see mage. Until then, you can sleep in the guest room for tonight.”

Hawke yawned andwalked into the room dragging her feet. She sat on the bed removing her boots, and unbuckling her belts. One moment she was getting ready for bed, the next passed out on the dusty mattress.

Fenris narrowed his eyes on the woman. She could be easily killed by leaving herself so open. However, as if reading his mind, Lady raised her head and growled from her spot at the foot of the bed. Fenris moved from the doorway, not the least bit perturbed, before settling himself in the main bedroom. He knew a few hours of sleep were needed to restore his reserves.

However, he stayed up a bit longer, relaxing for the first time.


	15. I'm very sorry

Ok aside from that stupid sleep deprived April's fool joke, I will have to be honest and Say I lost all motivation to continue. And no its not because I don't get enough views, or reviewers to send me praises...I lost the momentum to write since my depression and anxiety are taking over due to my major.

Its either I can write for stories i love or practice my skills in ullustration so i can draw them. Cant have my cake and eat it with this subject...so Im gonna plan, hopefully, before DA:I comes outs at least 2 wrapped up chapters to finish this. Then I guess working on oneshots to help ease the flow of fangirl moments.

truelly sorrow, but it sorta depressing seeing me squander two years of no developement.


	16. final chapter- closure

**I really tried but I found out the hard way my adhd and apsergers do not give me any favors. So Classes won big time and while I prepare to graduate I might just focus on one shots to fill in gaps for certain things....if not I might just write up a summary page of what I had planned out. Still either way I hope this was the closure you wanted.**

 

The differences between Kirkwall and Fereldan were as numerous to point out, as the difference between an Orlesian duke and an Antivan fop. First off that list was the missing smell of wet dog and mud that persisted in the cities and stayed in the countryside. Despite the fact dogs are found everywhere with their uses, no one is more dog crazy than a Fereldan with an imprinted Mabari. Legends go they were made by the Tevinters to have loyal companions during a leave of elf hunting, only to see the dogs choose the Avarri as better masters.

Anders tried to correct the part of his brain, that housed Justice, correcting him that it more or less the local tribes, but the Fomarri are the most remembered. "Mabaris are harder to come by for everyone since they are bred by the noble classes. Makes it hard for a peasant to have the rights to breed a litter, let alone have one imprint on them. Usually costs an entire dowry or a years worth of crops to even own one out in the countryside." He mumbled grinding away at the mortar and pestle on the table. Most of the patients were asleep on cots, so no one could over hear their resident healer talk to himself. "Even if the odds are against them, it's been known to happen. Like Hawke, for example, has an impressive beast following her around. I'm sure the woman has never been raised in noble setting, but she works like a woman possessed to get ahead."

Justice scoff at the thought at how a woman of her caliber isn't part of the nobility and found it criminal an apostate, such as her, should choose to live like this when she could be exerting he energy to helping other mages in Kirkwall.

Anders sighed setting down the mortar. "I don't think this will be another easy conversation to wrap up. She came here on a boat, just like us, with other refugees fleeing from the blight. She had no family or other friends to help her, should the Templars catch wind of her abilities. It is rather shameful she had no proper training with her healing skills." Anders began scraping the contents into a bottle. "Imagine if she lived in the circle or had proper training...she would be a very sought after spirit healer."

A sudden image of Hawke dressed in the customary circle robes ran through Anders mind. He imagined what it would be like growing up with her and having another friend. She would have been somewhat more happier if there was a purpose in her life. Justice rumbled in protest at the image conflicting with how she isn't on the side of the chantry, yet she is somehow blind to the plight of mages.

Anders stretched out his neck muscles standing up. "Going by her actions with Karl was the most saintly thing we could manage for helping mages. At least she finds being tranquil a horrible practice."

"It is also a most safe option to protect others should a mage become a tyrant to others." A deep voice growled behind followed by a pair of boots.

"At least try to keep it subtle before you scare off our only healer. I can take the slander since it doesn't bother me however," the strain of wood groaning as the door was closed was followed by the rustling of clothing. "next time we spar I wont make you dinner as payment."

Anders raised his brow in alarm before turning to take in the visitors. Hawke was sitting in her usual chair unbraiding her hair with a smirk. She looked rather smug next to the other person, who happened to be a rather old elf in black leather and...

"Is that a great sword on his back?" Anders wondered aloud gaining the attention of the two. The elf turned to him with a rather surprising younger face. "Sorry, not enough Dalish ever venture down to Kirkwall unless they mean to do business. Since you're with Hawke it must be important."

The elf narrowed his eyes at the remark. "Just because I can wield a sword properly does not mean I hail from the Dalish. Nor do I happen to live in the festering pool of the Alienage."

"Well by your tattoos I was just assuming you were," Anders kept his anger in check pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look can we start over again. My name is Anders. Local healer of this fair clinic and former Fereldan apostate."

"Don't forget teacher to a rather late bloomer." Hawke muttered setting the last braid in place.

"As much as you fuss, you are showing great progress in your studies. I just feel better if you let me join you for further testing." Anders looked back to the elf who was still scowling at him. "And you are Serah."

The elf looked at him as if he rather not tell such a thing. "Fenris. Miranthous. I am Hawke's newest blade."

"Well Mr. sword is Miranthous your last name or where you hail?" Anders looked over to Hawke, who was oddly grinning. "Stupid question, but it seems I finally gotten to see you smile. Almost thought your weren't human for a second."

Her grin slowly turned into a thin line, that held some mirth, as she readjusted her seat. "Well I'll remember that next time you need my help with the Blooming Rose doing checkups. Lusine is already pissing me off with questions about a woman with my 'skills.'"

Anders eyes made a quick glimpse to her lower half, noting how the chair's seat was rather small for her. "Yes, well glad to know I'm not the only one being hassled by her. I take it you're here for work or giving your guest a tour?"

"Fenris isn't my guest, he's a hard working warrior filling in as our arm since we lost Aveline. And yes, we are here for work since we are down a man and I don't trust myself as the only healer." Anders raised his eyebrow at this as Hawke leaned over her chair. "Listen before I came to Kirkwall someone helped me survive the blight that required a deal. In return I have to give this necklace here to a Dalish camp on the mountain. The thing is...they just showed up."

"Hawke are you sure this isn't a trick or another errand from Meeran." Anders moved back over to the table cleaning up residue.

"Her name was Flemeth and I don't think I want to try pissing off the infamous witch of the wilds."

Anders looked at the woman trying to decipher the nervous look on her face. He would figure this was a nervous tick, since she rarely asked him out of their lessons without being an ass. Yet here she was being honest and waiting on his reply. Moving around towards the the front he poked his head out gaining the attention of his look outs.

Minutes passed as the healer whispered his instructions to ensure the clinic was in good care during his absence. As he headed back in he caught Fenris and Hawke murmuring to each other, out of consideration for the other patients. They seemed at ease with whatever their conversation was about, leaving Anders curious on the subject. He crept closer as quietly his mage robes would allow.

"And I call bullshit on the subject. Just because I still refuse to take your coin, doesn't mean you can say no to free food."

"I can when it's handed to me as if I were some stray pet."

"Doesn't stop you from eating it. Besides you look all skin and bones whenever I come over. I get worried if I broke you in half with a punch."

"Says the mage who can only light up a candle without dying." A dry tone to match his mood.

There was something odd in the way this Fenris acted that had Justice edgy, like a cat ready to pounce. Even more was his unintentional candor in making Hawke more relaxed then Anders has ever seen her. Whatever it was would likely be dismissed on this journey to Sundermount. "If you two love birds are done chatting we can head out now."

Two sets of eyes turned to him with a hint of exasperation at what he just called them. Hawke sat up, while putting her coat back on, while Fenris walked ahead giving Anders a side glance.

"Anders you do realize that was the dumbest thing you just said at this moment. The man can barely tolerate me on the few errands we do, without getting my heart ripped out for healing him. Thanks."

"What?" Anders exclaimed following behind Hawke who was stomping out the way. "Well sorry if you're a harpy to me, but all friendly with this elf like he was the most normal man in your life."

"Perhaps it due to the fact I train with him, without using my magic, and he feels happy to punch an opponent who doesn't gawk at their own blood." Anders looked at her with an indignant look before staring at Fenris with anger. "Look Anders, he just helps me do some strength training since it's obvious I'm useless outside of healing others. I mean using that Force magic I learn is helpful, but not really useful when I cant set ablaze a sword."

They caught up with Fenris waiting at the elevator who was busy ignoring the stares of an inappropriately dressed woman, who was giving him the most lusty gaze. Anders turned back to Hawke noting how she purses her lips at the two. "If I have anything to say about it Hawke, it's that you have great potential in your skills. Not every great mage can call down storms to obliterate their foes or calm the seas. Sometimes the greatest mages are good at botany, medicine, teaching and writing out great books."

Hawke barked out a laugh at the mere thought of her being one of those great mages. "Yes, I can see it now. The great magical Hawke slayer of boo-boo's and tummy-aches. Oh and vanquisher of the draft when winter hits."

"Well you can certainly warm up my bed at night if your offering it. Seems broody here takes offense to my offers." Isabella chuckled hitting the switch as they entered the platform.

Silence filled the air as they went up the shaft leaving the fetid air of Dark town below them. Hawke fidgeted from side to side, Isabella was giving everyone the hungry gaze and Fenris looked like he was angry at something. Anders started to wonder if this assortment was such a good idea to venture out on such a task.

Thankfully the walk up the mountain was rather short since Hawke was putting to practice her rejuvenation spell. It was of a high level than what he was teaching her, but Anders realized the woman had a huge well of mama inside her, that constant spell casting in some amounts didn't tire her. He also noticed that although she knew virtually no other spells outside of home living, her physique helped make up for this set back. Even so, this made Anders feel confident in letting Hawke proceed to the Spirit healer's way since she almost made all the criteria needed. It just would be harder to find a spirit for her to communicate with since Justice was of no help.

Even worse was this Fenris character.

Anders couldn't quite place the reason why he was irritable around the man, but somehow he was setting Justice off. It was unsettling to say the least, but hopefully he would only have to stay around the elf for just the day giving him more opportunity to teach Hawke. It was rare to ever see her in a good mood, so Anders was taking his chances in making sure he teach her.

"So tell me Fenris, do your lyrium tattoos come in different styles on you?" Anders almost choked on his tongue when he overheard Isabella "Cause sailors would get various things tattooed to show off."

A growl emitted from the elf along with a familiar glow. "Yes, getting tattooed by an insane magister was at the top of my list before serving like a dog at his side."

"Ooh, did you also stand around shirtless feeding him grapes? Did he oil you up while you glistened by his side looking dangerous." The pirate licked her lips at whatever fantasy fueled images erupted from her head. Fenris groaned at the thought trying to ignore her. "Always alert...always glistening."

A soft chuckle erupted only to be quickly softened. Anders looked ahead to see Hawke shaking with mirth, desperately hiding it. Fenris saw it as well earning a deeper scowl on his face obviously upset being the joke.

"I take it you find it amusing Hawke to envision me in chains?" His voice was deep with a linger of danger that made Anders seriously concerned.

"No, not really. Just thinking over the picture of you oiled up like those buffoons Isabella hires at the Blooming Rose. I find it somewhat hilarious if anyone took you serious with all that oil loosening the grip on your..." Hawke stopped for a moment as Isabella let out a raucous laugh. "Damn it all. I should of just kept quiet."

"Or perhaps you would like to stay quiet thinking about two hand grips on oiled up swords and lyrium muscles." The pirate was walking up to Hawke eyeing her rear with glee. "Or perhaps you were thinking of where he could put his sword away, since it is a rather big sword. Got any ideas Hawke?"

Hawke at this point lost all mirth from her face, which Anders wish more for, as she loosened her staff. "If you are up to it Fenris, I see about a dozen able bodies that Fenris can use his sword on."

A snap of a twig signaled a group of mercenaries bursting from the bushes. They seemed to have numbers on their side until a flash of lightening arched through several men. It seems Anders display of power didn't deter the men from running into a panic, instead it only whipped them into a frenzy to kill them faster.

Anders held his own, as usual, casting with the ease of a tempered mage. Where as in his peripheral he noticed Hawke casting what she could before using her staff as a vicious pole arm. For all her hidden talent it seemed wasted on her combat prowess to stab and punch. Granted it was such ill use for a staff he could not deny the expertise in the owners hand wielding it with efficiency even without the usual help of her mabari. Even better was Fenris working with Isabella cutting a path through bodies as if they were nothing. The battle in general was going way better than expected until a hail of arrows lodged into the remaining few mercenaries.

Anders turned in time to hear a hiss as one arrow lodged into Hawke back. She was already tearing at her coat as the Dalish emerged from the bushes. Knowing how they felt for all humans, Anders paid them no mind heading towards Hawke to tend the wounds. One of the hunters addressed Fenris if he was in need of help only to hear a growl. Anders thought for a moment if the elf was more beast than man with that surly attitude.

Refocusing his attention back to Hawke, who was currently biting into a belt. It wasn't until he caught sight of a skittish elven woman towards them with a worried brow. "I'm sorry I got you caught into this mess, but the keeper thought it be a good idea I stay to meet Asha'bellanor."

* * *

 

"Bull shit!" A hand slammed on the table. "You are telling more lies again then I can count concerning the Champion."

Varric looked up from the bar as a hooded figure served him another flask. "What? I just thought I come out with the truth this time, before we were to meet her."

"This time was no better than last time when you told me she hailed with a Fereldan family into Kirkwall and survived the deep roads killing thousand of demons. Tell me what else can you say about the champion that might surprise me?"

Varric drank his ale with a flourish before looking back at Cassandra. "Well I might as well add she let me take creative control in her story since she didn't want anyone to remember her. Better she remains some hyped up icon than a woman who just wanted to settle down. I mean if Leandra didn't die in the Chantry."

"Hey you said she was killed turned into a body zombie sex doll!" Dorian chuckled twirling his staff. "I mean I would of liked to hear it, but you just gave away spoilers to a juicy climax."

"Now now, don't get so touchy. I was going to get to that another night, but since Cass here doesn't want to here anymore lies, I might as well spill the beans on the more obvious questions like why Leandra led Hawke to be engaged to choirboy."

"Varric, if you so much as breathe another word I will have Solas invade your dreams."

This caused Varric a mock gasp looking toward the other armored figure staring out at the horizon.

"Inquisitor you wouldn't dare sully my story telling when I could easily just write it for you personally about the steamy bits." This caused side glance towards him before turning back. "Hehehe, see Cass even our new boss here thinks the true story is worth more."

Cassandra griped her nose trying to hold on a scathing remark. "If we were to meet the Champion, will this guarantee the truth about their origins?"

"Hey unlike the Warden's tale I didn't embellish anything. However, when we see her you'll see why she chose that ridiculous story in the first place." Varric lifted him self up with ease. "Plus boss here seems ready to leave."

Varric was right as the Inquisitor waved their hands signaling the rest of them to move out. He sauntered behind them keeping track of any ambush but thought back to Hawke and the last time he saw her. He remembered how she looked so bloody and lifeless as Sebastian held her like a precious gem before Fenris swindled her body. He almost swore she was dead at the time, but who knew the lengths she go to be invisible to the world.

Still Varric knows he had miles to go before they found Hawke and give her story a proper rest. If anything this was now the age of the Inquisitor.


End file.
